


So, I guess…we all have issues.

by Werepirechick



Series: What if we die?/What if we live? [1]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Dysphoria, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reincarnation, Trans Male Character, Transgender, asylum AU, but they're trying, correct me if i'm wrong about anything inside, for at least a while, i didn't add those tags until now and augh i'm sorry i forgot, i just realized i hadn't added that tag and it is hecka relevant, i know this sounds dark but its not, i'm not sure what happened, its cute and rather fluffy, just so they can all meet, no more misgendering alright, only sometimes, read the tags before commenting, they're kinda all a little fucked up, things are no longer fluffy, update 02/11/2016:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2018-08-22 05:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 112,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8274443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werepirechick/pseuds/Werepirechick
Summary: Mikey wasn't insane. He knew he wasn't.He really did have three brothers and a father, no matter what his paperwork said. Also, none of his family was human, and neither was he. That was the truth about him, no matter what anyone else thought.(Sticking by that truth got him thrown into an asylum. What a surprise.)**Winner of FIRST PLACE in the Universal TMNT Mature Fanfic Competition 2016 for MOST COMPELLING AU, and winner of SECOND PLACE for MOST SPOT ON PORTRAYAL OF MICHELANGELO.**





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I begin another ill-advised venture in writing, despite having like five others in progress already. Yee.
> 
> **edit 2018 when i finally got around to adding my winnings: i should have won first place for the michelangelo thing oh my god, the person who did win wasn't even writing a fic centering around him, it was about a VAMPIRE LEONARDO, ARE YOU KIDDING ME.
> 
> i was robbed of my title.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update 03/05/2017: the wonderful and amazing artist chibi-geek-girl on tumblr made an incredible piece of fanart for this fic, and i elected to make it the cover photo! applaud them for it, i'm going to treasure forever. <3

Mikey wasn’t insane. He knew he wasn’t.

Everyone else just thought he was.

 

 

 

Living in a group home?

Wrong.

Living with a bunch of random foster care human kids?

Wrong.

Living above ground at all?

_Wrong._

Mikey should’ve been living underground, safe in the endless networks of tunnels and sewer systems beneath New York. Not in a badly maintained care home for kids without families.

He had a father. He had brothers. _Three brothers_. Brothers he loved and adored and missed dearly. Mikey had a family.

Mikey’s paperwork said he’d never had a documented father; just a mother who’d overdosed on heroin when he was two, and left him without any sort of guardianship. Mikey had never had any siblings at all; he was his nineteen year old mother’s one and only child in her brief, painful life. That’s what his official documents said.

They also said he had a history of pathologically lying, a habit of stealing, and frequent hallucinations.

All. Wrong.

Mikey wasn’t crazy. He knew that he wasn’t.

Even with his endless imagination, how could he ever dream up an entire life in such detail? He couldn’t imagine a life as a mutant turtle, as a _ninja_ mutant turtle at that, going on epic adventures and fighting wars and saving the whole earth three times over and then some-  there was no way he could have made that up. No way could he have imagined his brothers, or father, or friends.

They were real; Mikey knew they had to be.

They just weren’t… here with him.

 

 

 

Mikey kicked his feet, impatient as he waited for the adults in the next room to finish talking about him like he wasn’t even there.

He didn’t expect whatever they agreed on to be good for him. They were probably sending him away somewhere, because he was a _‘danger’_ and _‘bad influence’_ to the rest of the group home.

Whatever. He hadn’t liked it there to begin with. Sharing a room with boys who didn’t understand what he said, older teens picking on him for still holding onto ‘ _childish fantasies’_ , and little kids either being scared of him or… well, there were a few of the little tykes he’d miss. The ones who’d believed him.

Mikey twitched slightly as the voices in the office rose in volume. Yikes, he was in a lot of trouble this time. Maybe more than the time he’d pickpocketed a high up social worker.

In his defense, Mikey had known the guy was a first class dick to any foster kid who wasn’t white, so he still felt like the suited man had deserved to have his wallet, phone, and cigarettes stolen and sold off.

Someone slammed something loudly in the office, and Mikey flinched at the yell following it.

_“-can’t have him here anymore! I don’t care what you say about being gentle, he’s a terrible influence on the younger children; always talking about his delusional stories, filling their heads with insane notions-“_

_“-I’m sure if we just got him treatment again, maybe this time he’d take to it better? Is there really necessity to-“_

_“He climbed a six story building! He claims to have scaled higher! He’s dangerously out of touch with reality and I won’t have him infecting the other children with it-“_

Maybe Mikey shouldn’t have tried to climb that building. In the daytime that is. He should’ve done it after dark had fallen, and _then_ gone and checked the water tower there.

_(Staring at the building, Mikey’s head had flooded with memories and images of his real life; from before… whatever had happened to him. Him and his brothers, sometimes with their human friends, leaping over roof tops and just hanging around. On that specific water tower no less._

_He knew that water tower almost better than he knew the back of his hand. Old and peeling and unused; it was the spot he and his brothers would always meet up at when they got separated during patrol. If they missed one another, they’d leave coded notes; clues of where to go next._

_Mikey had never gotten so close to where he’d used to live; disallowed to break from his group escorts, on the account of his history as a pickpocket and hallucination victim._

_But. he couldn’t just_ not _check it out. Not when the tower was so tantalizingly_ right there _, and the closest he’d gotten to finding anything about his real life in years._

_Without his mutant strength to jump the ten feet to the fire escape, he’d opted to scale the mere six stories to the roof._

_Turned out, he’d have needed his mutant strength for that too._

_Mikey got stuck three floors up, and while he’d been a hundred percent intent on scaling the last three, the fire department arrived before he could catch his breath again._

_Then it was off to the police station, for trespassing and general disturbance of the public, and then back to the home.)_

And now he was here, waiting for their decision of what to do with him.

Their head matron didn’t seem in favor of sparing him serious punishment this time. Usually, the real boss of the foster home could talk her down, but it didn’t seem like the guy would succeed this time.

Likely they were shipping him off to a new group home. Dammnit, and just when he’d figured out just how close this one was to his _real_ home.

Should have waited until nighttime.

Sneaking out would have been a bit of a challenge, but it’d have been worth it. Mikey grimaced to himself, scuffing the floor with his worn sneakers. Why didn’t he have any patience or self-control? It would have been just a few hours to wait, why hadn’t he?

Because it was the first shot at finding his real family in sixteen years and he couldn’t stand waiting a moment longer.

Damn his impatience and poor impulse control.

The door beside his uncomfortable wooden bench, he swore his name was on it at this point, opened up and Mikey’s head matron and warden stepped into the grimy hallway. The warden looked apologetic and disappointed in Mikey, unsurprising, and the matron was scowling down her petite nose at him, also unsurprising.

“Michael, if you would step into my office… we’ve got some plans for your future to discuss,” Mr. _who-ever-he-was-Mikey-had-never-been-able-to-properly-pronounce-it-anyways_ said in a beaten tone, his watery brown eyes looking at Mikey through their glass shields. Mr. _who-cares-I-don’t_ coughed politely, adjusting his glasses, and stepped to the side as he gestured Mikey in.

Mikey stood up, ignoring the withering glare the matron, who was called Sharol with an S H, and walked into the dimly lit room.

Three minutes later, Mikey’s suspicions about removal from the home were confirmed. Just not the way he’d expected them to be.

 

 

 

Word spread like fire on gasoline in his group home, so when Mikey walked back into his shared room later that evening, he was absolutely unsurprised to have three sets of eyes warily watching him. As though he might fly off the handle and attack everyone in sight, because according to gossip, Mikey was _crazy_ and getting shipped off to the _loony bin_ come next morning.

And since he was in such an awful mood already, Mikey decided to indulge their perception of him, just this once.

“Hey guys!” Mikey exclaimed cheerfully, smiling with _all_ his teeth, and tilting his chin _just_ right to freak them out. “You hear the news? I’m gettin’ out of here tomorrow. What a relief, I thought for _sure_ I was gonna be stuck here until I turned legal, but nah. I get to move out before all of you, and to _such_ a _nice place._ I hear they supply all three of your meals, your room and plumbing, even cable! Damn, I feel sorry for _you_ suckers, but unfortch, there’s no plus one for this. Sorry fellas!”

Two of the sets of eyes, Johnathon and Keith, disappeared as the other boys hurriedly rolled over in their beds towards the wall. The third pair, Nathaniel, kept staring at Mikey.

Mikey tilted his head the other way, and made his smile a little sharper. “ _What?”_

“Told them you were fucking crazy,” Nathaniel spat, because he’d been such a great roommate even before this. “Should’ve taken you _years_ ago, fucking psycho. Coulda snapped and killed us all in our sleep at any time.”

“There’s still time,” Mikey replied brightly, because fuck Nathaniel and fuck the home’s rules about threatening language. “I don’t leave till morning after all.”

Nathaniel paled, like Mikey knew he would, and the other boy sneered despite his obvious fear. “You’re insane.”

“Yep. Been told that a lot of times lately.” Mikey deadpanned back, slapping the light switch and leaving them in the dark. On the edge of his hearing, Mikey thought he might’ve heard Johnathon whimper. Good. At least he’d have a legacy of terror to leave behind, because as of tomorrow, they were scrubbing clean what little mark he’d made in the home.

Yeah. Great day.

Mikey hovered in the doorway, half to make his roommates uncomfortable, half because he’d forgotten to brush his teeth and if he backed out now he’d look stupid.

Fuckit. They’d probably force him to take a sanitizing shower tomorrow anyways. He could survive teeth sweaters for a night.

Mikey shut the door behind him, stepping around the abandoned piles of clothes on the floor, and made his way to his bed in the corner. Tired as hell, and fingers still throbbing from earlier, Mikey collapsed on his bed; not even bothering with blankets, because he didn’t care enough anymore.

 

 

 

He wasn’t crazy. Mikey _knew_ he wasn’t crazy.

It wasn’t his fault no one believed him. Though, he supposed he could have advertised it less that he was likely the reincarnation of a mutant ninja turtle. Mikey hoped it wasn’t reincarnation, because then it’d be probably impossible to find his family again; they could be anyone, or any _thing_ , and he wouldn’t recognize them until he met them face to face.

He’d been trying for years to find them, using what limited resources he had. Computers, libraries, phone books, even word of mouth. The last being a bit of a huge mistake.

When he was little, he’d asked every adult he’d been introduced to in the foster care system if they knew where his father and brothers were. He’d drawn pictures and given them out to people, hoping someone would know who the scribbly green and brown figures were.

Mikey had been patted on the head, called adorable, and told to go play with the other kids.

As he got older, edging closer to teenage years, saying he was still looking for three mutant turtles and a rat man got him concerned glances, and suspicious glares. He was given a stern look by the matrons, and told to stop bothering their guests with his imaginary friends.

Eleven and up got him angry words and privileges taken away, for telling lies and stories and acting inappropriately for his age.

Mikey made all those years worse by attempting things he knew he knew, and either hurting himself or another kid. Using ninjutsu was a lot harder when he was thin and small and human. It was also not socially acceptable to use it on people who startled him too badly.

Yeah. That wasn’t really his fault either. Because while he remembered all the good things about his old life, he also remembered all the bad things.

Like going to war at fifteen, and killing men and women before he was even old enough to enlist. Like being barely old enough to be a soldier, and starting his second war. Like watching his family risk their lives over and over, all for humans who would never even know their names.

Mikey assumed something bad had happened after eighteen years in that life, because his memories only stretched that far. He guessed they’d all died, probably during a fight they just couldn’t win that time round.

Sucked majorly, both that he was missing the end of their story, and that he’d been able to remember what he did for basically his whole life.

Knowing he’d killed people, in his past life granted but still, kinda fucked up five year old him. Knowing he’d seen war and violence and actual flipping death, before human him was even ten, fucked him up a lot. Knowing he’d actively been hunted, hurt, and almost killed repeatedly kinda gave teenage him a _ton_ of issues.

Maybe Mikey was a little crazy, but not because he remembered that stuff. Nah, being a war veteran was as crazy as he got; whatever anyone else said about his remembered life, they were wrong.

The caretakers in his group home called it temporary psychosis when Mikey flipped off the handle; which was not entirely wrong, given those moments were when Mikey couldn’t keep his lives straight and might’ve done some things he shouldn’t have.

Probably the worst one was when he’d had to go get his appendix out, woken up high as hell on pain killers, and tried to haul his skinny twelve year old butt into the sewers. Because _humans_ and _hospitals filled with humans_ didn’t register as a safe situation to him at the time.

Morphine was great, but only when you weren’t living two lives at the same time.

It’d taken three security guards to restrain him. Turned out, delirious fear and drug hazes did not impede his residual ninjutsu skills; if anything, they’d been amplified. He’d broke the nose of one of the guards.

Mikey had sent an apology card to the hospital afterwards. He didn’t get a reply.

All in all, Mikey had been labelled as crazy and possibly dangerous as early as eight. Didn’t bother him, really, because he didn’t want to get close with any of the humans anyways. Not when his mutant family, and the few human friends they’d made, were still out there. Waiting for him.

It’d be a lot harder to find them now, given that he was going to an asylum.

Ha.

Ha ha ha.

_HA._

He should’ve waited until night fall to climb the building.

 

 

 

Mikey stared at himself in the mirror, trying and failing to savor his last moments as a free man.

He’d slept last night, but it’d been fitful and terrible, and he’d woken up worse feeling than when he’d gone to sleep.

His coffee cream skin was pale, at least for him, and his zillion freckles didn’t look as nice as they usually did. Mostly, they were just little dark spots on a miserably ill seeming surface. And who _knew_ what the hell his hair was doing.

Mikey might’ve hated being human, it felt _wrong_ , but he did like having hair at least. He could style it, when he found time, and he liked the cushion it provided. Plus, it was fun to pull on the tight little curls and undo them into frizz; and then put them back together when he got bored.

This morning though, they looked pretty awful. Dark brown curls turned into dark brown snarls; Mikey didn’t even want to try taming them.

He sighed to himself, and bonked his head against the mirror, pressing his bare sternum against the cold sink.

He had ten minutes left before he was shoved into the home’s van, and driven off to imprisonment.

 _For_ _treatment_ , the warden had said. _For his own good,_ he’d said. And all the while through that conversation, Sharol had glared at him with her spidery little eyes.

If Mikey had had any less self-control, he might’ve socked the guy in the face. And Sharol too.

He tries to climb _one building_ , and suddenly he’s a public menace.

Rude.

Mikey sighed, making the glass fog over. He was stalling, and rambling, inside his own head. Fat lot of good it would do, since the car parked out front wasn’t going away any time soon, and the matrons waiting to escort him were still just outside the boy’s bathroom.

He probably had seven minutes left.

As Raph would have said, _fuck._

…Mikey missed Raph.

And Leo, and Donnie, and their dad, and April, and Casey, and Leatherhead, and…

Everyone. Mikey missed everyone. He missed home, his family, and looking in the mirror and seeing the _right_ him.

_Ugh._

It was only seven in the morning and he was already moping again.

….five minutes left.

Mikey stepped back from the mirror, and finished washing his face and teeth.

When he opened the door, he found two of the kinder caretakers waiting for him. Linda and Mable. He’d liked them; they gave good hugs to the smaller kids and didn’t scold as much as some caretakers. Now they were giving him pitying looks, and Mikey liked them a lot less.

“Time to go, Michael,” Linda said gently, reaching out for his hand like Mikey was six instead of sixteen.

Mikey glanced at her wrinkly white hand, and stepped past it. He could find the front entrance himself, thank you very much. If the two women had wanted to give him any sense of comfort, they would have stopped this from happening.

Mikey felt a slight pang of regret though, for making Linda’s expression crumple like it did.

But he steeled himself, and his nerves, like he’d been taught to in his previous life, and ignored Linda’s hurt frown.

He wouldn’t give her sympathy, not when it was _him_ who was being shipped off to the nut house.

The old white van was waiting outside, the logo for the group home cheerily emblazoned on the side. Mikey hated how happy the sun and rabbits looked on the van, since he himself was absolutely miserable.

Mikey turned around one last time to look at the place he’d lived a good chunk of his life in. An old and aged thing it was, the building’s original paint color lost to time and its general upkeep slipping worse each year. In each of the windows, there were curious faces looking out; probably trying to catch a glimpse of the crazy boy one last time.

Mikey spotted Nathaniel in one of the mid-floor ones.

He threw a birdie Nathaniel’s way, and glared.

Nathaniel visibly scoffed at him. Prick.

Well, if there was any benefit to this, at least Mikey never had to see _that guy_ ever again.

Honestly, the jerks who’d come and gone in the group home were lucky; Mikey had been drilled into a code of mercy since he was old enough to hold a pair of nunchucks. Some of those kids… Mikey wasn’t his brother Raph, or even Leo, but even he wasn’t immune to the desire to beat the heck out of people who insulted and bullied him like those kids had.

Lucky lucky lucky, that’s what everyone here was.

Mikey turned his back on the home, and all the traitors and bystanders in it, and got into the waiting door of the van. His suitcase was already in the back, he knew that because he’d watched them put it there, so Mikey was left with only settling himself in for the long ride.

The asylum was in a small town, almost seven hours away from New York. Probably more, considering the traffic they’d be meeting on the way there. Mikey was not looking forwards to staring at nothing for that long; reading made him sick in the car, and like heck was he going to start a conversation with his two drivers.

Their usual driver was already in his seat, tapping his fingers along the wheel impatiently. The second person slipped into the car a moment after Mikey had sat down in the far back; Sharol’s annoyingly puffy blonde hair confirming her identity.

Sharol slipped a CD into the disc player, and the dull voice of a priest began to drift out of the speakers. Mikey groaned under his breath, because he’d heard Sharol’s prayer and gospel CD’s before; they were legendary for not only being painfully boring, but making zero sense as well. She’d gotten them from the local church years ago, and had played them every chance she got.

Mikey kinda _really_ hated those CD’s. He had nothing against the religion, but just. No thanks.

The car started up, without either driver acknowledging him, and then they were on their way. Mikey watched as the streets pass by, saying a half-hearted goodbye to the neighborhood. He’d miss some parts of it, but it’d never been home, so it wasn’t a terrible loss.

If he wasn’t headed for indefinite imprisonment, Mikey might’ve even been excited for the trip. He loved New York, he really did, but he’d screwed himself over early in life for any freedom to see it. Limited to school field trips, and rare outings with the group home when he was younger.

He never did get to check the water tower, and he never did get close enough to his old home to see if it was still there.

Mikey regretted that, if nothing else.

Mostly though, he regretted not waiting until after dark to climb the stupid building.

The car paused at a light, and Mikey unbuckled his seat belt. Sharol squawked at him to sit the heck back down, but Mikey ignored her as he reached over the back seats. He couldn’t stand seven hours of old men preaching gospel, not when they emphasized their T’s and hissed their S’s.

Pulling open his backpack, thrown carelessly in with his suitcase, Mikey pulled out his second most precious possession, and first most precious possession.

A Walkman and a thick, tattered notebook.

Mikey buckled back up his seatbelt, exaggerating the movements just for Sharol, and was comfortable again just as the car started forwards.

Sharol gave him one last disapproving glare, before ignoring his presence again. Whatever, all the better for Mikey.

He popped his headphones into the right size, and snapped them over his ears. Turning on his Walkman, Mikey drowned out the gospel with a bit of gospel of his own. With _The_ _Wombats_ , more specifically their CD, _A Guide to Love, Loss & Desperation_, blaring in his ears, Mikey felt marginally better.

But only marginally.

He flipped open his notebook, the one he used to record his past self’s memories, and started reading despite how sick he was going to be later. Maybe he’d get lucky and he’d throw up on the side of the highway, delay their arrival a little longer.

Skimming the pages to his favorite parts, just before meeting April and then onwards, Mikey settled down to wait for his doom and upset stomach.

 

 

 

By the time they arrived, almost clear through the day, Mikey had accepted both his doom and his sore stomach. Heh, the look on Sharol’s face had been worth it though; her horror as he puked up his lunch halfway to the asylum had been priceless.

Mikey’s stomach hurt, but he thought it was worth it.

His attempt to climb the water tower’s building however, was looking less and less worth it as things went along.

Paperwork signed, personal items confiscated, new clothes handed over in exchange for his current ones.

Sharol didn’t even look back as she walked out the doors of the facility; her square white heels clacking away into the distance, and leaving Mikey alone in the asylum.

He had to respect at least, Sharol’s stone face coldness towards him. That took talent, being so indifferent to someone’s distress. He supposed you learned it through many years of being a member of the foster care system in America.

Still though, fuck Sharol and her stupid heels and stupid blonde hair and stupider smug expression when she’d signed the papers.

Mikey wasn’t leaving this place until he was an adult or declared sane and cured.

He wasn’t sure if he’d make it to either, from the way the place looked.

He wasn’t even allowed to have his journal; declared too likely to influence his grip on reality. The men in uniforms took Mikey’s Walkman too, along with all his other things. Mikey had scrimped and saved for that stuff; it was second hand and mostly shit, but it was _his_ second hand shit.

At least they didn’t shave his head, like they did to patients in movies.

Mikey, in his horribly white and drab patient’s shirt, pants, and shoes combo, let himself be led deeper into the facility.

A physical checkup had already been done, as well as a mental evaluation. He was all set to be admitted with the rest of the crazies. The doctors had been nice enough, if slightly patronising. They were nicer than _Sharol_ at least. Less annoying too.

Mikey could’ve broken away from the two men leading him along, it would have been easy, but he didn’t; because acting out on the first day? Definitely a no-no, even he knew that. Be quiet, be pliant, and let them think you’re not going to fight back.

Mikey would save fighting back for whenever they started picking his brain apart, and tried convincing him his memories were fake delusions.

The two guys in nurse garb left him in his new room; an identical one to all the others on the row, blank and sterile as the rest of the facility.

There was a bed on each side, but both seemed unused. Guess Mikey didn’t have a roommate yet. Good thing, he wasn’t in the mood for chatting right now; he just wanted to lie down and pretend this wasn’t happening to him.

Free time was apparently soon, when everyone’s evening checkups were done, and Mikey would get to meet his fellow inmates then. Fun.

Dinner was right after that, but Mikey wasn’t hungry for once in his life.

Mikey climbed onto the right side bed, and lay facing the soft cream wall. Again, he chose no covers, because he didn’t feel like restraining himself any more than he already was.

Mikey stared blankly at the wall, and tried to come up with a plan.

………

Yeah, he had nothing.

Plans weren’t his thing; that was Leo and Donnie’s shtick, always prepared for anything. Mikey was more like Raph in this sense, reactive to a situation instead of a strategist.

Mikey could only think of one reaction for this situation at the moment.

Sleep.

Mikey closed his eyes, and as he always did, prayed that he’d wake up in the right reality.

 

 

 

He didn’t wake up in the right reality the first evening there, or any of the evenings following.

Mikey took his pills, attended his appointments, and suffered each day a little more.

He’d done this before, with psychiatrists. He’d tell them about his _‘delusions’_ , and they’d try to help him figure out why he was making them up, what the source of them was, etc, etc, etc.

Mikey didn’t budge on his conviction that his memories were real, not even with all the clever little words the doctors used to make him think otherwise.

Mikey also didn’t let any doctors know he wasn’t taking to the program. Pills to dull him down or no, Mikey wasn’t letting that part of himself go, but he also wasn’t planning on waiting around to turn legal.

He wanted out, so he’d get out.

Just had to convince the staff he was mentally sound, _(which he already was but they didn’t believe him on that_ ), and then get the heck out of dodge.

Mikey smiled, swallowed the little capsules he was given, and nodded along to whatever the doctors told him.

He offered fake reasoning as to why he might make up a whole world, a whole other _life_ , for himself. He gave just enough each session so the doctors would leave him alone, and be busy picking apart the bullshit he’d delivered.

Mikey was told that if he kept up the good behavior, he might even get a new notebook.

Mikey smiled when he’d been told that, and pictured throwing the doctor and all his shiny psychology awards out the window.

It wasn’t that they were awful to him, in fact they were nicer than the social workers had ever been, it was just… Mikey was _bored._

There was a game room, but it was just old table tennis set ups and chess and other well-used board games. There was a courtyard, with trees and grass, but Mikey just fell asleep when he was out there. You could go for walks around the asylum grounds, but only when accompanied by an escort and after you’d been approved for roaming privileges.

Given his tendency to engage in highly dangerous parkour type things, and maybe scale buildings, Mikey had not been approved for those privileges.

The best room he could find was the media room; which was filled with creaking bookshelves and an old as hell television set. It only played black and white films older than Mikey was; both of his ages, now and former, combined.

Mikey didn’t dislike the patients either; some of them were kind of cool. Like Nakita, who was convinced she was a vampire of a long royal bloodline, tracing back to the real count Dracula. She had a tendency to bite herself and drink blood.

Or Dave, who only spoke in a made up language he swore he’d been programmed to talk in, by _aliens_ no less. He twitched at _everything_ , and ritually did a weird dance every few hours.

There were… _less_ cool patients, who were mean and bitter and kind of scary, but Mikey just kept out of their way. He might be a former ninja, but even he would be hesitant to get into a strife with one of them.

Course, everyone was drugged to hell and back, so fights were as rare as freedom was.

Mikey’s pills made him sleepy, and messed with his hand-eye coordination. Supposedly, they were meant to lower whatever anxiety was causing him to hallucinate. Mostly though, they just made Mikey tired and headache-y.

God he couldn’t wait to get out of here.

He hated the sterile feeling of everything, the utter lack of freedom, the absence of creativity… Mikey didn’t have his Walkman, his notebook, or literally anything he’d owned before this.

He was going insane with boredom. If he didn’t get out soon, he might actually _need_ to be here.

Wasn’t that a scary thought?

 

 

 

The month of mind numbing boredom suddenly became worth it though, when he spotted someone unmistakable during breakfast one morning.

Mikey dropped his spoonful of shitty oatmeal, and stared at the boy three tables from him.

He wouldn’t have noticed the new guy, fresh addition as of last night, unless he’d heard the guy’s voice as he passed by. Which Mikey had, which made him drop his spoon in surprise, which drew the guy’s eyes over to him at the loud clatter.

Lethe, dark skinned, and definitely human, Mikey wouldn’t give the guy a second look on the street. Except…

Navy blue eyes.

A familiar voice.

The solid feeling of _knowing_ him.

Leo, or the human version of him, stared at Mikey across the cafeteria. Dressed in the same white clothes as Mikey, which made his earth toned skin seem even darker, Leo sat in the middle of the normal morning chaos; looking drawn, somehow pale, and very much out of it.

Mikey held Leo’s gaze for a brief second, and Mikey’s hopes swelled and squeezed and screamed, and –

Leo’s eyes drifted away, disinterested, and returned to picking at his lumpy oatmeal.

Mikey wanted to cry.

But. He didn’t.

Because Leo was _right there,_ no more than twenty feet from him, and it was as close as Mikey had ever gotten to finding his family.

Leo was _here_.

Holy _fuck._

Mikey could barely contain himself all through breakfast; waiting impatiently for it to end, waiting for Leo to finish eating his share of breakfast at the agonizingly slow pace he was, waiting another twenty minutes to reunite with his brother after sixteen years apart.

When the timer chimed softly, signalling their ended breakfast time and beginning free hours, Mikey tried hard to not bolt across the cafeteria. Because running wasn’t allowed, and he couldn’t afford to be delayed any longer.

But Leo was already gone, in the process of being taken away by nurses; headed towards the treatment side of the facility.

Mikey clenched his fists, and bit down on a large number of very Raph like curses.

He couldn’t find Leo the rest of the day.

 

 

 

Mikey slept not at all that night, struggling with both vivid nightmares and vivid dreams on and off.

When morning finally came, he searched the whole roaming ward for Leo.

He didn’t find his brother anywhere.

Mikey looked all day, and didn’t find even a trace of his brother.

An insecure part of him whispered that he really was crazy, and he’d never actually seen the human boy who _might_ be his brother.

Mikey violently squashed that voice, and kept it that way for the rest of the day.

The night following hadn’t been any better than the first.

 

 

 

Two agonizing days later, he finally did locate Leo.

Mikey tracked Leo down to the courtyard, during an afternoon set of free time hours. Leo was propped up against one of the trees, staring at nothing, and separated from the few other patients in the fifty by fifty grassy area.

For a moment, Mikey hesitated. Leo might not know him, he certainly hadn’t recognized Mikey two days ago; what if he approached the boy, who looked as old as Mikey, and found he didn’t know Mikey at all?

Mikey took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and decided to try.

Things couldn’t get any worse; he was already locked up in a nut house, and Leo was too, so he had no room to judge Mikey for anything.

Including the vaguely insane idea that they were brothers in another life, a life that incidentally, they’d been mutant turtles as well as ninjas; mutant ninja turtles that had saved the earth multiple times, had a rat for a father, and originally lived in the sewers of New York.

Thinking that as one thought, Mikey could sort of see why people had decided to put him in the nut house to begin with. Nathaniel was right; it’d taken the caretakers years to put him here, even though Mikey had been talking about his other life all his current life. That in itself was a little crazy.

He was rambling and stalling again.

Mikey stepped onto the soft ground; his slip-on shoes providing little buffer, and started working his way over to Leo.

Leo didn’t even react to Mikey’s presence, eyes remaining far off and dazed. First round of medication then; must be the really powerful sorts, since Leo was completely out of it.

Mikey sat down without invitation, right next to the other boy.

Mikey didn't really know what to say, because he wasn't sure if Leo knew who he was, so he settled on a neutral greeting. An ice breaker, before he started dropping existential questions on the guy.

"Hey there, I'm Mikey! Who're you?" Mikey asked cheerfully, waiting politely for a response.

Leo slowly turned his head, and blinked at Mikey as though he’d appeared out of thin air.

"...Leonard," Leonard replied, which hurt Mikey more than he thought it would, but-

"Call me Leo though, I like it better."

Mikey thought his cheeks would likely hurt after this, from how widely he was grinning. There was hope then.

"Course! Whatever you want,” Mikey said, trying to not lean too far into Leo’s space. He’d call Leo anything, if he really was his brother.

Leo tilted his head at Mikey, and Mikey swore he could see something like recognition flickering in Leo’s eyes.

“…do I know you?” Leo asked slowly, examining Mikey with more alertness than before.

Mikey really hoped so. He really, really did. "If you think so, then we probably do!"

Wow he was probably being too cheerful but fuckit; this was the happiest he’d been in weeks.

Leo raised an eyebrow, but seemed to accept Mikey’s statement well enough. Mikey took that as an a-okay sign, and scooched closer to Leo; leaning right against the trunk and touching shoulders with the other boy.

"You're really friendly, aren't you?" Leo said, not pushing Mikey away thank god.

"Only to people I like," Mikey replied truthfully.

Leo looked at him for a moment, though that might have just been the meds slowing down his brain, before nodding once.

"Sensible."

"HA!” Mikey laughed sharply, before going deadpan and saying, “Literally no one has ever called me that before."

"...we're in an asylum, I suppose sensibility is rare,” Leo said thoughtfully.

"Nah, it’s just ignored by people who think they're better than us,” Because that was true; while the doctors and nurses were all very nice, they still obviously thought they were better than the patients. After all, sane tromps insane; in their minds at least.

Leo nodded again, his attention drifting off at the end of the gesture. Leo went back to staring at nothing, as though Mikey wasn’t there.

Wow. They’d _really_ drugged Leo up. Must’ve been one hell of a thing that got him stuck here with Mikey.

Not that Mikey was complaining about Leo being here; it sucked majorly that they were under lock down and labelled crazy people, but heck. Mikey would take that over being alone again.

Now if only Donnie and Raph were here too…

Mikey let his thoughts turn to memories; his attention drifting like Leo’s had. After a long pause, close to what felt like a half hour, Leo spoke again.

"...are you sure we know each other? I feel like I've met you before," Leo said softly, eyes refocusing on the present.

Mikey grinned to mostly himself- wider than he probably should but whatever he's crazy- and nudged Leo’s shoulder with his own. "Hopefully, if I told you how we did, you'd believe me."

"...Mikey?" Leo asked after another pause.

"Yeah Leo?"

"What's your full name?"

"Michael, on paper at least,” Mikey grinned and tilted his head the way he knew freaked people out. "But I think Michelangelo suits me better."

Leo’s eyes flickered with something close to recognition again, and he smiled for the first time since Mikey met him _(again)._

"I guess then, I can say I think Leonardo suits me a lot better than Leonard," Leo said cautiously, as if waiting for Mikey to refuse the name.

"Sup Leonardo, nice to have you back," Mikey said, words feeling a lot heavier than their phrasing. He would not cry, he would not cry.

"We've never seen each other before today though, Michelangelo," Leo said, an amused smile finding its way onto his face.

God did it feel good to hear his real name again.

He’d probably cry later that night, when no one could see. For now though…

Mikey grinned, and shook his head. "Nah, we've seen each other before. Just not here."

_(Not in this lifetime.)_

Leo gave him a weird look, but everyone gave Mikey those looks so whatever. Mikey kept smiling.

Leo eventually shrugged, bumping Mikey’s shoulder as he did, and settled back into his daze. Conversation over then, since Leo either wasn’t interested enough to ask about Mikey’s cryptic words, or the drugs had reclaimed their hold on him.

Mikey sighed contentedly, and reclined against the tree as well.

Even if they're both in the wrong bodies, wrong names and history, wrong place and time and everything really-

Mikey missed this. Almost more than anything, he missed his brother.

They’d find a way out of this forsaken place where imagination and creativity went to die, and then they'd find their other brothers, whether Leo knew that yet or not.

Mikey sighed again, and dozed while his brother continued to stare off in a drugged daze.

Not perfect, not anywhere perfect, but good enough for now. Being next to his big brother was good enough for now.

(Mikey _would tell Leo that last part in a little while. Wouldn’t want to freak the guy out_ too _badly._ )

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo was dangerous, and he knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ho, I came back!
> 
> Lol, my work ethic can appreciate at least, that my method for dealing with my Own mental instabilities... is to write characters who have it even Worse! (°∀°)
> 
> This was really therapeutic, not gonna lie. Hope you all enjoy!

Leo didn’t want to be dangerous, but he was.

And the fact that everyone knew it, that made it all the harder.

 

 

 

 

He tried. He tried so hard almost constantly, to not blank out.

But… even with the pills and the therapy and Leo being as careful as humanly possible, the attacks still happened.

He still attacked people, no matter how hard he tried to not.

It wasn’t even anger, or any similar emotion, that made him lash out. In fact, when the attacks happened, Leo didn’t feel anything at all.

It was just eerie stillness inside him, then a blink-

-nothingness-

-and then someone was hurt, and his knuckles were stinging.

There was something wrong with Leo, and even after years and years of trying to solve the wrongness, he still couldn’t even put a name to it. No one could.

When he finally got removed from his group home, it was almost a relief. At least then, he couldn’t hurt people by accident anymore.

 

 

 

“Sooooo, where’d you live before you came here?” Mikey asked Leo. The other boy tugged absently at his long hair coils as he talked, legs occasionally jittering with pent up energy. “I used to live in New York City, was pretty cool. ‘cept the part where I got my dumbass self perma-grounded. I lived my whole life there, and I only got to see, like, less than a quarter of it. Sucks, I know. But what can you do. So, what about you?”

“I lived in New London. It’s not far from where you were,” Leo replied, dragging the information to the front of his mind. It sucked how slow his brain felt with his new prescription, but at least he hadn’t accidentally punched someone yet.

“Shit, that is close! We could’ve met at some point then, even if this hadn’t happened,” Mikey gestured around at the ward’s cafeteria to indicate _‘this’_. “Probably would’ve been nicer. I could’ve taken you to a restaurant or somethin’. I knew a bunch of places that served _way_ better food than this.”

Leo looked down at his platter of cold hamburger and limp lettuce, and shrugged. “It’s not bad. I’ve had worse.”

And, it was probably better Mikey hadn’t met Leo before this. With how against personal space Mikey was, Leo probably would have broken his nose by now if not for the drugs.

Leo really didn’t want to do that. Not to Mikey.

“Heh, foster care homes. They’ve either got the best stuff you’ll ever taste, or it’s all out of a box. Cheers to surviving it!” Mikey tapped his styrofoam cup against Leo’s on the table, and knocked back the grape juice like it was alcohol.

Leo nodded, and let Mikey’s chipper attitude dominate the conversation. It was really hard to think, and words came with difficulty; so rather than make a fool out of himself with fumbled sentences, Leo let Mikey talk as much as he wanted.

Mikey talked a lot, rarely leaving opening for others to speak, but Leo didn’t mind. It was probably better that way.

 

 

 

The moment he’d met the guy, Leo had been unsettled by how… _right_ it’d felt.

Typically, when someone approached Leo, he’d immediately be on guard. Partially for their safety, partially because of his vague sensitivity to people; but with Mikey, he hadn’t even noticed the guy until he was sitting right next to Leo already.

Leo was always aware of his surroundings, and he could basically feel other people’s movements around him. Mikey had slipped through that awareness like it was nothing.

A large part of Leo suspected that the reason he hadn’t punched Mikey on reflex, was only because of the haze he’d been in. However, the small and mildly freaked out part of him, said that it was because Mikey didn’t register as a threat. At all. Not even a little.

Which was weird, and had never happened before.

Leo had never seen or talked to or even known about Mikey until that afternoon, and yet, interacting with the other patient felt like an old pattern. He knew Mikey, somehow, in some way.

Mikey said he knew Leo. Had known him for a long time.

Mikey also wouldn’t tell Leo exactly _how_ he knew Leo. Just that he did, and to leave it at that.

“Just for now, I promise I’ll tell you eventually,” Mikey said, when Leo asked a third time. “It’s not time yet. Or something. Just- just let me work up to it. Please?”

Leo raised an eyebrow at the pleading boy, but eventually shrugged. “Alright. I can wait. We aren’t exactly going anywhere.”

“ _Ha,_ ain’t that true,” Mikey laughed, cracking up despite the fact that nothing was actually funny.

Mikey had a tendency to laugh at random times. It was vaguely unsettling, among all the other things about him that were.

Mikey hadn’t told Leo why he was in the facility, though Leo was grateful for that. Because it meant he himself didn’t have to disclose why he was here.

If Leo _did_ tell Mikey… well, he expected that the other boy would rescind his bizarre feeling friendship, and then avoid Leo for the rest of their stay.

A justifiable reaction of course, but that didn’t mean Leo wanted it to happen.

 

 

 

The sane part of Leo, if you could call any part of him that, knew he wasn’t meant to be around people. Not with his condition.

That didn’t stop him from wanting to be.

He liked to be with people; teens his age, kids years younger than him, kind or funny adults he got along with… Leo may have isolated himself for most of his life, but he didn’t actually want to. He did it for others’ protection. Also to maybe avoid jail time before he even turned legal, but irregardless…

Leo spent a lot of time alone, and in the sense of that word, he was very lonely.

The group home he’d lived in for most of his life, the caretakers had done their best to help him work around his condition. They made sure he had his own space, something they had little of to spare, and free-passes for when Leo was feeling particularly twitchy.

Except Leo never _felt_ twitchy. His blank outs, they happened at random, and without warning.

He couldn’t control when they happened, and by result, couldn’t control himself.

 _(When Leo had finally crossed the last boundary, and cuffs had been put on his wrists, he’d gone willingly. The looks his fellow-  his_ former _housemates had been giving him… those alone would’ve been enough to make him leave.)_

Leo shouldn’t have let Mikey stick around him. He should have told the other teen to back off, and never try talking to Leo again.

But.

But he didn’t.

Because in the few days since Mikey had all but attached himself to Leo’s side, Leo had somehow gotten just as attached.

He knew all lot of things about Mikey now; like how Mikey had gotten the scar on his knee, _(bad swing incident),_ or exactly how many freckles Mikey had counted on himself, _(the number went up to somewhere in the seven hundreds). (Mikey had been very bored that day, alright? Or so he’d said.)_

Leo knew Mikey’s favorite color, _(orange)_ , favorite food, _(a Frankenstein creation of pizza),_ and similar things.

And at the same time, Leo knew next to nothing about the guy. Mikey was somehow an open book at the same time as being a puzzle box. Every time Leo thought he was getting something concrete out of the guy, Mikey would somehow switch the subject with Leo noticing, and then it’d be up to ten minutes later before Leo would even realize what had happened.

The drugs didn’t make it easier to keep track of the conversation flow either. Leo was on three different types; two ‘anti-anxieties’, read as _‘sedatives’_ , and one that Leo couldn’t recall the purpose of. Something for his memory? Or the like? Whatever it was, it wasn’t doing much else other than turning everything into molasses.

The first week in the facility was a blur, excluding Mikey’s sudden appearance into Leo’s life.

He’d just. Suddenly been there. Out of nowhere, and smiling right at Leo.

The only people who’d smiled at Leo since the… _Incident_ , had been plastered on grins from nurses, and the strained one his former warden had given him, just as she’d turned and walked away.

A flurry of dark curls, endless freckles, and tanned skin; somehow, Mikey managed to look more alive than the other patients Leo had seen. Like he’d brought the realness of the outside world with him into the facility, and hadn’t let it go like most people had. Brilliantly blue eyes, and cheeky grins; Mikey seemed wild and abnormal, even before Leo had started to get to know him. Compared to Mikey, the rest of the world around them lacked vibrancy.

Leo might’ve been a little high when he first met Mikey.

Maybe a lot high.

It’d taken him way too long to remember how to speak, and then he’d completely drifted off right afterwards.

Mikey, in all his strangeness, seemed utterly unaffected by how quiet Leo was. Even after the first few times Mikey hung around him; he never seemed to hold it against Leo for how quiet he stayed.

Was it inappropriate to consider someone you’d met only a week ago your best friend? Leo felt it probably was.

_(This was such a bad idea. For both of them._

_Leo didn’t want it to stop though. Not yet, please not yet._

_Just a little longer.)_

 

 

Then, suddenly as Mikey had appeared, he disappeared for two full days.

Leo had wondered at first, if Mikey was just having an extended appointment like Leo got. But when the second day rolled around, and Mikey again didn’t turn up for breakfast at their claimed table, Leo was concerned enough to ask. He tried asking the woman who brought him his evening doses.

“I’m sorry, we don’t have a Michelangelo staying here at the moment,” The female nurse replied, handing over his nightly tablets.

“Oh. Um, I meant Michael. Sorry,” Leo corrected awkwardly. “He’s got really puffy hair? And it’s sort of long too? He’s kind of dark colored all around…”

“Oh, you mean _that_ Michael. I can’t give you details, patient confidentiality, but he’ll be back in another day, don’t worry. Are you friends with him?”

Was he?

“I guess so,” Leo said, shrugging.

Leo hoped he was. Mikey seemed to think they were.

It didn’t quite feel like proper friendship though. It was… _different_ somehow. Different in a way Leo couldn’t put his finger on.

Leo had swallowed his pills, thanked the nurse after she checked he’d swallowed them, and lay down to sleep. No use thinking on things like that, not when his brain moved at a snail’s pace, and there were still so many unanswered questions regarding the other patient.

Like why it felt right to call him a name that wasn’t his real one, or why Leo’s own name dysphoria had matched up the same way. Or why Mikey could sidle up and interact so casually, and Leo’s reflexes wouldn’t so much as twitch. Or why it felt so familiar to be with the other teen, even though they’d only known each other for such a short time.

Mikey had the answers to that. Mikey wasn’t giving the answers to that.

Leo had a suspicious feeling that until they disclosed their individual reasons for being in the facility, he wouldn’t get those answers.

Leo really, really did not want to explain his reason.

_(Please not yet, just a little longer, please please please-)_

Mikey reappeared the next day, like the nurse said he would, and he only looked a little worse for wear.

“I, uh, _ha_ , had a bit of an episode. Nothing big, just had to sit and listen to a bunch of folks in white coats for a while,” Mikey said, like he hadn’t vanished without explanation for two days. Like he didn’t look washed out and tired. Like he wasn’t giggling at random moments, because something was funny that Leo didn’t get. “Ha, ha ha ha. _Ha!_ So, um, sorry for disappearing an’ stuff. Promise it won’t happen again, not if I can help it!”

“…did they give you a new prescription?” Leo asked, noticing the glassy look to Mikey’s eyes.

“Ha, uh, maybe? Dunno man, they gave me _something_ …” Mikey closed his eyes, and rubbed his palms over them. “Eugh, sorry. Not gonna be good company today. Talking an’ stuff, s’kinda hard righ’ now. Mind if I… dunno, sleep for a while? I gotta ride this new stuff out.”

“Oh, sure, of course. Where do you…?”

“TV room. I like background noise.”

Leo nodded, and then they headed for the entertainment center.

Thankfully, there was still a couch free when they got there. The other four were occupied, the ones that faced windows or the television directly. However, the one by the empty and grated fireplace was open. Mikey barely glanced back to see if Leo was following, going over and flopping down immediately on the piece of furniture.

Leo watched as the other teen shut himself down, and was out like a light. Mikey curled up like a little kid, eyes shut tight, and it was only minutes after that he started snoring.

Mikey had taken the whole couch, so Leo ended up dragging a loose chair over to sit on. He put it beside the end where Mikey’s head was; situating himself so he could see Mikey, but wasn’t infringing on the other boy’s space.

Leo’s meds didn’t leave him with enough of an attention span to properly read, so he had to settle for drifting from reality. Easily done, since his medication was probably meant to do that anyways…

Hours could pass without him noticing, that’s how displaced Leo could be sometimes. Mikey sort of helped with regulating that feeling, but even still, unless someone told him what time it was, he wouldn’t know.

Minutes, maybe hours later, Leo twitched as an unfamiliar sound entered his hearing. He glanced over the arm of the old blue couch, and noticed Mikey was less curled up, more cringing into himself.

He was mumbling something, softly hissed words. They were too incoherent to make out, but they sounded scared.

Leo realized Mikey was having a nightmare.

Mikey’s breathing hitched, his whole body tensing, and Leo couldn’t help himself-

He reached out, gently so gently, and put a tentative hand on Mikey’s head.

Leo had only done this a few times before; with really small kids in his under-staffed group home. he didn’t get to do so very often, especially as he got older, but when he had… being an older sibling felt correct to him, even if he technically had no siblings to speak of. Brief moments, before Leo had been isolated fully from the other kids, he’d gotten to play the big brother for scared kids having bad dreams.

He tried to apply the same ease he’d felt back then to the situation now.

It seemed to be working.

Following instinct, Leo threaded his fingers through Mikey’s thick hair to gently, so so gently, scratch at the other boy’s scalp.

A few passes and Mikey settled back down, drifting into peaceful sleep again.

Leo withdrew his hand, and sat looking at it for a while.

It was rare he actually had physical contact with others, especially contact that didn’t involve hurting someone.

Leo never let himself get close to anyone.

But without thinking, he’d reached out to Mikey right away.

Leo bit his lip, and closed his tingling hand into a fist. There was something really weird about them both, and as high as the price would be, Leo needed to know what the source of that weirdness was.

But. Not yet.

_(Just a little longer. Let Mikey stay a little longer.)_

 

 

 

Even if being in the facility was boring and draining, it was also the best thing for Leo.

He couldn’t be trusted around people anymore. He needed to be watched, medicated, and put through intense therapy.

It’d been a long time coming, the event that put him here, but… it didn’t make it hurt any less when it did.

_(A routine visit from social workers. Looking in on their living conditions, checking on the kids nearing legal age, general review of the staff…_

_Leo had been in the living room, which was right next to the front hall, when the men had come into the home. He’d been working on his calculus homework, and had carefully positioned himself away from the other studiers in the room._

_Ted and Abigale though, some of the newest preteens added to their already crowded home, they’d decided he was a good target for play._

_Ted on one side of the coffee table, plastic tea pot in hand, insisted Leo participate in the party. Abigale, Ted’s partner in crime, held up a plate of fish crackers as if to tempt Leo._

_Leo shouldn’t have, but… he had a soft spot for small kids._

_They’d been setting out the plastic cups, on hand-crafted paper doilies too, when three newcomers entered the living room. Leo had glanced up, and something in him stuttered._

_Three men, tall and lean and clean shaven, near identical suits, near identical haircuts, dark glasses over their eyes, all three of them NEARLY THE SAME-_

_Leo blinked, and then-_

_-nothingness-_

_-and he was back._

_Leo couldn’t hear anything, a rushing sound whooming through his hearing. He was panting, and he felt tired all of a sudden._

_His knuckles and hands really hurt._

_People were screaming. A lot of people were screaming._

_Leo looked down._

_He was kneeling on someone’s chest, hand raised in a fist. The man underneath him, his nose was bleeding steadily and he didn’t seem conscious._

_Leo raised his head and glanced around._

_The other two men lay nearby, limbs bent at wrong angles. Only one was awake. He was sobbing._

_Other people were sobbing too. Who-?_

_Leo looked backwards at where he’d been before. Ted and Abigale were staring at him in horror. The other six kids in the room were as well. Half of them were crying._

_Then they started running. Every other person ran from the room, escaping out the second exit; their screams echoing through the halls._

_Leo felt woozy, his unnoticed adrenaline rush dying down, and he slumped off the man he’d assaulted._

_Oh. He’d done it again._

_Shit._

_Leo hadn’t moved until the cops came, staring at the three men he’d brutally beaten to pulps. The cold metal closed around his wrists, and they’d led him roughly out of the group home._

_The other residents were on the lawn and the sidewalk._

_They stared at him with horror, fear, disgust-_

_Ted and Abigale hid behind the head of house’s legs, burying their faces in her skirt. Matilda, the woman who ran the group home, was looking at Leo with pity. She put a hand on each of the terrified children’s heads, and watched Leo go._

_They all watched him go._

_They all looked scared of Leo._

_They all should be._

_Leo let the officers shove him into the patrol car._

_He was in the asylum a week later. He didn’t resist once the whole journey there.)_

The men Leo had assaulted were just social workers. Why Leo had taken one look at them and flipped out, he had no idea. None of his triggers had reason or pattern, they just. _happened._

Leo was told he’d put the men in the hospital. One of them needed surgery for any hope to walk on his leg again.

Leo should’ve been put in an asylum long before that happened. Maybe if they’d taken him the first time he broke someone’s nose, _(a total stranger, too close, too quick moving in the corner of Leo’s eye),_ Leo wouldn’t have done the things he’d done, not if he was safely locked away.

School yard fights were brushed off easily, just kids having a scuff for no reason. Half the time, the people Leo had fought with couldn’t remember why they’d been fighting at all. They didn’t notice Leo’s lack of memory until he body slammed a kid in fourth grade for no reason, beyond getting hit on the back of his head with a Frisbee.

He’d caused lots of accidental injuries, all through his life. Bruises, cuts, a broken arm one time… but none of them on level with the Incident.

They tried medications, tried therapy, tried every new-age calming technique they could find. It didn’t do anything though, since Leo’s fits weren’t caused by anger.

A therapist once said to Leo it sounded as though he had high functioning PTSD. Which was ridiculous, because that was back when he was nine, and not even five feet tall yet.

Leo had been given up because his family couldn’t take care of him, and then he’d been in the foster care system ever since. He didn’t even end up in one of the bad group homes; his had heating, and internet, and enough food to go around all year. He’d never been abused, or beaten, or so much as looked at wrong. _(That is, until he socked that one second teacher in the nose. Then people couldn’t_ stop _looking at him wrong.)_

Leo had no reason to have PTSD, or be violent, or be so incredibly volatile.

But he was.

And he hated it.

_(Hated himself.)_

Leo was dangerous, and he knew it.

When they’d finally put him in a cell, told him he was insane, and given him enough drugs to down a horse, it’d been a relief.

At least he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore, not if he was locked up, not if he was completely isolated.

Mikey somehow managed to ruin that, and Leo let him.

At this point, Leo didn’t think he could leave the other boy even if he wanted to. Mikey seemed glued to him, and unwilling to find a solvent.

Leo prayed the drugs and the therapy would be enough, that he could keep this one friend this time.

_(Please, just one, he didn’t need any more than that. Just Mikey. Please, please, please…)_

Mikey talked about the facility like it was a prison.

Leo thought of it as a cage, one that kept everyone else safe.

That’s where you kept dangerous things after all, in cages and under lock and key.

At least in the cage, Leo could have his friendship with Mikey, however long it lasted.

_(Once he knew though… Mikey would be gone. Gone like everyone else._

_A part of Leo knew it was inevitable._

_A part of Leo knew it was pointless._

_A part of Leo was praying that it never ended.)_

 

 

 

“We should room together,” Mikey said out of the blue, as he tended to.

It took a full three seconds for Leo to register what his friend had just said.

“…what?”

“You know, since they buddy people up anyways? Mine’s still empty, and you don’t have a roommate either, as you’ve said, so we should! Right?” Mikey said, grinning across the space between them. They were in the entertainment room, sitting on the fireplace couch, and idly paging through some of the newly arrived books. Mikey abandoned his novel, dumping it on the ground as he stood up. “Right! I’m gonna go ask, be right back!”

Then Mikey was gone.

Leo’s sluggish brain finally figured out what was happening, and he bolted best he could after Mikey. But jeeze, the other boy moved like greased lightning through the unusually big crowd in the room; slipping around other patients to get to the nurses stationed at the observation desk.

One of them was a regular for Leo’s checkups. He knew why Leo was here, and why he wasn’t approved to share a room with anyone.

_(No no no no- not yet, please, not yet-)_

They’d tell Mikey. They’d tell him and he’d be gone.

(- _please not yet-)_

Leo pushed through the slow moving crowd, and got to the desk too late.

(- _please, anything but that. Please don’t let him leave. Don’t leave me alone again.)_

“-at do you mean he’s not allowed? Neither of us have roommates, an' we get along great, don't we Leo?" Mikey said, slinging an arm around Leo’s shoulders. “See? We’re awesome buds; you should totally let us room together.”

"Mikey, Mikey wait-" Leo said, trying to stop the flow of conversation.

Mikey didn’t stop, pleas still continuing to fill the air. "C'mon, we're lonely! And isn't socializing good for us? It’d be a great set up, and I promise we'd behave like good little patients..."

Leo panic rose, because he could see the side looks the nurses were giving him, and the weird pity they were aiming at Mikey.

"Sir, regretfully speaking, it’s just not possible for you two to room together."

"Aw what, how come?"

Leo braced himself, turning his head away so he didn’t have to see the face Mikey would make.

"Your friend here.... he's in solitary. He isn't approved to share space with other patients without supervision."

Leo’s stomach dropped out, and he could feel the look Mikey was giving him.

"...what? Why’s he in solitary? Leo’s chill as anything,” Mikey asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"It’s only because of the drugs, Mikey." Leo muttered, ducking away from the other boy’s hold. He was only allowed near the safe humans because he was too drugged to attack them. Ha.

A kid had once called him a wolf in sheep’s clothing; not too far from the truth now.

Ha.

The nurse Leo knew, Paul, smiled a conspiratorial grin at Mikey.

Leo had never liked Paul.

"Leonard here, he's attacked almost fifty people in the last seven years, and injured every single one of those individuals,” Paul said to Mikey, announcing Leo’s past like he was enjoying the vileness of it. “To put it shortly, he's a very dangerous individual. If he wasn't legally diagnosed as mentally insane, and a minor, he'd be in prison right now."

Leo had never liked Paul, and with good reason it seemed. Too bad he was drugged up, otherwise for once, he might’ve actually meant to blank out. Ha.

"...what?" Mikey asked, and though Leo didn’t look at him, he could tell Mikey was still staring at him. What face was he making now? "What- no. Leo’s not like that. What are you talking about?"

Ha. Ha ha ha.

"I never mean to," Leo mumbled quietly. Because he never had, never would. It just... happened, all on its own.

_(Was nice while it lasted.)_

“And has he told you what he _did_ to get put here? I heard that one of the men he assaulted won’t ever walk right again, you sure you want to be hanging around with him-?”

 _“Paul,”_ The other nurse hissed at his co-worker, shooting his fellow staff member a glare. The nurse Leo didn’t know cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing at Leo as he did. "So. As an answer to your question: no, you two can't room together. I'm sorry you got your hopes up. Is that everything you wanted to know?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess," Mikey replied vaguely.

Leo still didn’t look at Mikey’s expression.

_(Would it be fear? Leo knew fearful expression fairly well these days.)_

Mikey turned away from the desk, and wandered out of the entertainment room. Leo glanced at the two nurses, and using the likely fear Paul had, he glared at both of them. Paul whitened further, and the other nurse had the grace to look ashamed.

Leo left them both, following Mikey because… well, he didn’t exactly have anything else to do. Mikey was the only person he spent time with, the only person he _wanted_ to spend time with, if he didn’t have Mikey…

Leo wasn’t sure what he’d do without Mikey.

He stayed a good distance from the other boy though, just in case Mikey wanted him to leave. In fact, Leo was waiting for the other boy to notice his quiet footfalls, and turn, and tell Leo to disappear.

After two turns of the white hallway, Mikey did turn around. Leo readied himself for whatever the other boy had to say; readied himself to be told to leave for good.

_(He was dangerous, very dangerous. Mikey should tell him to leave, for his own safety.)_

Leo finally dared a glance at Mikey’s expression, and-

Mikey was giving him a look. Not an _‘I’m scared of you’_ look, but a _‘wtf are you doing?’_ look.

What.

"Why you all the way back there? I could fit like, two couches between us right now," Mikey asked, raising an eyebrow at the distance between them. He looked calm as anything, his usual slouch not having changed the whole time.

"....I don't know," Leo said truthfully, because as of right then he didn't know anything.

Mikey kept looking at him weirdly, then made an _‘Oh!’_ expression, and closed the distance between them in a few quick strides.

Leo backed up a step as Mikey stopped in front of him, because he needed distance between them, he needed distance between himself and _everyone_ -

-for their own safety, so everyone else was _safe-_

-and then he couldn’t retreat anymore.

Because he physically couldn’t move.

Mikey was… he was hugging Leo.

Arms wrapped around Leo tightly, pining Leo’s down, and not budging an inch.

Leo stiffened into a statue, because no one had gotten that close to him in years, and he waited for his stupid reflexes to kick in and make him blank out and probably hurt Mikey, and maybe it was the drugs or the weird connection he had with this bizarre yet incredible kid, but-

Leo didn't flip out. He didn't blink and suddenly find Mikey with a bleeding nose.

He wasn’t hurting Mikey. Not even a little.

In fact, it was sort of _Mikey_ who was hurting him, just a little bit, with how tight the hug was. Apparently Mikey was stronger than he looked in his thin hospital clothes.

Slowly, achingly slow, Leo loosened the hug just enough to raise his own arms.

Half terrified, Leo gently clasped his hands together around Mikey’s back.

He didn’t tighten the hug like Mikey had, because he was still waiting for his reflexes to act up. Maybe if he stood really still, they wouldn’t, and he wouldn’t hurt the first friend he’d had in years.

"You’re not...?" _Scared of me?_ Leo asked, voice barely reaching a whisper.

"Nah. Wouldn't ever be," Mikey replied, hearing the unspoken words. “I _couldn’t_ ever be. Not in a million lifetimes.”

".....okay,” Leo whispered, ducking his head into Mikey’s shoulder. He let the tension drain out of him, and he leaned against Mikey. “Thanks.”

Leo felt a bit like he wasn’t actually there; partially because of the drugs, partially because he didn't believe this could be happening.

He should’ve been shoulder throwing Mikey to the ground, like the last time someone had hugged him.

He wasn’t though. Small miracles.

Leo didn’t break off the hug, even though it was weird and strange and just a tad crazy. But…

He knew Mikey. Somehow, some way. He felt comfortable, and oddly enough, _safe_ with the other boy. He hadn’t hurt Mikey.

The other boy, he knew what Leo was, _(dangerous),_ but Mikey wasn’t leaving him. Mikey wasn’t going anywhere.

Leo wouldn’t either then, no matter what reason Mikey had for being in the facility.

_(Thank you.)_

 

 

 

Mikey held his big brother, and internally, he boiled with anger and grief.

His brother, tall and unfaltering, strong and wise and always the leader-

He was just a kid now. An unloved kid.

An unloved kid too scared to reach out to anyone, because he was terrified of himself.

Mikey wanted to cry.

He also wanted to track down the people who’d let Leo become this quiet and scared individual, and put his heel through their teeth.

But he couldn’t, because they were trapped in a white painted prison, and wards of the state. It also wouldn’t have done any good for Leo, but it would have made Mikey feel a bit better at least.

He sort of sounded like Raph, thinking that.

Mikey missed Raph a lot right then, and Donnie, and their dad.

They wouldn’t have let this happen to Leo. They would have known how to help Leo. Make him feel better; make him stop looking so tired, so scared of affection.

They weren’t here though, just Mikey.

He’d have to do.

“Feel better?” Mikey asked after another few moments. He felt Leo nod into his shoulder, and he let his brother go. Leo had dry cheeks, but his eyes seemed a little shiny. Mikey didn’t say anything about that.

Mikey did a quick glance around the halls splitting off from the one they’re in, no one around, and leaned closer to Leo to stage-whisper, "Wanna go see if there's any chocolate pudding left? You look like you could use a cup. I know a guy in the cafeteria who could get us some."

He added an eyebrow wiggle for effect. Mikey kinda liked having hair, just for that.

Leo blinked at him, and then smiled softly. Success! “That sounds good to me.”

Mikey jerked a nod, pulling all his happy emotions to the surface for Leo, and put a cheery smile on his face. “C’mon, if we go now, we can eat before evening checkups happen.”

Leo followed Mikey as he led the way, keeping pace this time.

The hallways, deserted mostly, passed by as they walked at a casual pace. Mikey checked Leo’s mood every couple steps, judging if he needed to make another cheer up attempt.

Ah. Whoops, there went Leo’s smile. Time for another thing to distract him with.

“You know why we know each other?” Mikey said abruptly.

“Uh, no? You haven’t said.”

Surprise time.

“Well, long story short, we used to be brothers in an alternate lifetime, and we had another two brothers too, and we were all ninjas back then, which explains your reflex for violence thing, and, uh, I guess we basically saved the world a bunch of times and then died at eighteen or something and reincarnated here.”

“…what?”

“Oh, and I was the youngest and you were the oldest. And the leader of our team.”

“What?”

“Plus! We weren’t even human! We were these mutants made with space ooze from a race of tyrannical aliens that wanted to basically farm earth. Crazy, right?”

_“What?”_

“Surprise!”

_“Mikey!”_

Mission accomplished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cry/laugh because with this Leo, it goes something like this:
> 
> *you've become friends with Leonardo!*  
> *Leonardo will now die for you!*
> 
> I thought that up while I was drinking soup today and I almost inhaled and died.
> 
> So anyways; Donnie's next, my sweet string bean son!
> 
> Things are coming together nicely, aren't they? Poor Leo, poor Mikey. (poor Donnie, poor Raph... poor literally everyone. reincarnation hangovers are a bitch it seems.)
> 
> Was this a good chapter? Did you all enjoy the first class hurt/comfort? Lemme know in the comments below! This series will be fraught with that sort of thing, because lets be honest here, me and everyone else here are sluts for that kind of scenario. ;3c
> 
> See you soon folks!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feels for everyone! enjoy! it goes basically zero to sixty really fast.

Mikey idly watched Leo take his midday medication, leaning against the doorframe of the C wing hallway. Leo dutifully swallowed his pills, just like every other patient had before him in the lineup, and opened his mouth for the nurse to examine. They did that to everyone, making sure they were swallowing their meds.

Mikey sighed, bonking his head on the automatic door he leaned close to. He hated taking his meds, and hated Leo taking them even more. Leo’s medication prescription was a three-times-a-day type, while Mikey’s was just a twice-a-day type. Small mercies, small punishments.

Poor Leo. Mikey’s anger clenched at his throat, watching his brother dope himself up again. It made Leo lethargic and placid, so quiet and out of it he could barely hold a conversation.

He’d told Mikey he liked the medication, that he was grateful for it.

Mikey wanted to slap his brother’s brain-washed crazies away, and drag him from the facility.

It wasn’t fair. Finding his brother again, and then finding out that not only did he not remember Mikey, but that he’d also grown up into a different person. A scared, and silent, and very broken person.

The nurses scanned Leo’s barcoded wristband, marking down on the computer that he’d taken his second round of pills. Leo thanked the female nurse, and then started back towards Mikey. He was smiling, obviously happy to have gotten his sedatives.

Mikey did his best to smile back, even though his back thoughts were furious and sad.

Leo had said he liked the medication, liked the fact that it kept him from hurting people. Mikey hadn’t called out the unspoken _“from hurting you.”_ in that sentence.

Leo wouldn’t hurt Mikey. He wouldn’t. That wasn’t who Leo was.

Leo seemed convinced of it though, same as every staff member who closely monitored their activities.

Mikey suggested to Leo that they go sit in the courtyard, and maybe read their borrowed novels from the entertainment area. He suggested the idea, instead of blurting out that he wanted Leo to throw up his pills before they took effect. Before they made him sleepy and glassy eyed again.

Maybe if Leo went off his meds, he’d be more like the person Mikey remembered.

Mikey didn’t say any of that, instead pulling Leo through the crowd of awaiting patients, friends of those in line or joining up with the line. Mikey held Leo’s hand, even though Leo’s grip was loose and weak, and led him towards his favorite spot. He pretended he didn’t feel Leo flinching away from the other patients, that Leo’s grip didn’t minutely tighten every time someone came close.

He kept hold of Leo’s hand until they reached the courtyard, and stepped out into the fresh air.

Leo said he liked the tranquillity of the small garden; he preferred to be there for the half hour it took for the pills to dissolve into his system. Mikey didn’t have much preference for anything in the facility; just being with Leo was enough.

Mikey let Leo slump down against his favorite tree, and told him he’d be right back with their books from the TV room. Leo nodded vaguely, already starting to slip away from reality.

Mikey paused, a hundred things building up on his tongue, but-

Seeing Leo’s peaceful expression, he swallowed every single one of them.

He wanted to cry, maybe scream a bit.

He wanted to do that a lot lately.

“I’ll be right back,” Mikey mumbled instead, stepping away from his drooping brother, and heading for the double door exit. Leo didn’t answer, but that wasn’t unusual. Not for this Leo anyways.

 

 

 

Leo had scolded Mikey, oddly more aware than he usually was, for shocking him out of the blue with such a random story.

Mikey had grinned, and laughed. Yeah, what a story! Who would believe that? Him and Leo being brothers in another life, and mutants too, plus having a ninja rat father? Completely unbelievable! Hilariously so!

So. Fucking. Hilarious.

Mikey had kept grinning, and told a couple other tall tales as they shared their pudding cups. He kept grinning all through the afternoon, kept reassuring Leo that no, he still wasn’t scared and Leo’s past didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Mikey smiled until he was alone, and then he just.

Broke.

Alone in his room, after curfew hour and the lights were turned off, Mikey lay awake on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

Leo didn’t know who Mikey really was, who they both really were.

_Leo didn’t know who Mikey was. At all._

_He didn’t remember anything._

Mikey laughed a short and painful bark. Then he screamed.

Who could blame him? He’d just lost his brother all over again. He was allowed to lose it a little. Maybe a lot.

Mikey laughed and screamed and damn near _howled_.

_Leo didn’t know who he was._

_His big brother didn’t remember him._

He cried and screamed and eventually got himself sedated by the night security. They held him down in his own bed, and a nurse pushed a needle into his elbow’s veins.

Mikey hadn’t gone to sleep by his own will, dragged under by powerful sedatives. Probably for the best, otherwise he would’ve carried on until he passed out anyways.

He woke up in the isolation ward, strapped to a bed by his wrists and ankles. He didn’t get to leave for the whole morning, going through the usual song and dance to convince the doctors his head was still screwed on right.

“It’s unfortunate you keep having these episodes, Michael. You’ve been doing so well with your treatment otherwise,” Doctor Cho said over her clipboard, glancing at Mikey sitting on the bed he’d been strapped to.

“It was just a bad night, didn’t have to drag me down here again,” Mikey complained, picking at the bed sheets.

“You know the rules; we can’t leave you in your room if you are in danger of hurting yourself. And, you woke up your entire ward. It was very disruptive to the other patients.”

Mikey huffed, and bit down on his derisive words for the other patients’ needs.

“Would you like to further explain what triggered your relapse last night? We’re here to help you, Michael. We can’t help you unless you let us.”

Mikey picked at the bed sheet, and tugged free a loose thread.

“Nah. It was just a bad dream is all. I’m fine.”

Doctor Cho had squinted at him, as she tended to do to everyone, but let him go anyways. Mikey got to rejoin the other patients, thankfully Leo too, but he could feel the looks the guards were giving him. The nurses too. Obviously, he’d ended up on the watch list for the day. Great.

“You alright?” Leo had asked, giving Mikey a concerned look as he sat down on their claimed couch. “You missed breakfast again.”

Mikey stared for a moment, at the significantly thinner and more timid human in front of him. Leo probably hadn’t worked out a day in his life, and probably hadn’t yelled either. He looked almost nothing like he had before, just the eyes and voice remaining the same.

He didn’t remember that though, so he wouldn’t know any different.

Mikey stared for a long moment at Leo, trying to compare the turtle he’d known his whole life, with the dark skinned human in front of him.

Leo fidgeted, and Mikey kept staring.

Then, Mikey smiled best he could. “I’m fine, just a bit of a rough night. Doc’s wanted to give me a look over, check up on me. ‘cause they’re nice like that.”

Leo’s concern stayed, but he let the subject drop.

Mikey spent the rest of the day staying as close to his brother as he could, even though Leo would shuffle a bit of space between them every time Mikey tried to close the distance.

Leo acted like yesterday hadn’t been anything big, that he hadn’t unknowingly crushed Mikey’s hopes.

Mikey smiled, and tried to act the same as usual. It was a bit harder to laugh than usual, but at the same time… everything was just so. damn. _funny_.

Ha. Ha ha ha ha.

_Ha ha ha!_

_HA!_

What a hilarious joke, taunting him with the chance to have at least a piece of his family back, and then giving him nothing.

No, not nothing. It was still Leo. Leo was still Leo, even drugged up and human.

He was just. really broken though. Full of cracks that hadn’t healed right, or never had at all.

Leo gave him concerned glances every time Mikey laughed too sharply, or at the wrong moment. Mikey tried to play it off as nothing, but felt Leo’s worry all day.

Ha ha…

Ha.

 

  

 

The worst part about Leo not remembering, among the general awfulness of being alone still, was that he was still so similar to his past self.

Leo would always eat his meats last, and picked out the cooked carrots from the vegetable medley they got sometimes. He still loved science-fiction, and took almost nothing but Star Trek novels out from the TV room library. In the rare moments he wasn’t completely out of it, Mikey could get Leo to talk about his favorite books; the enthusiasm was still there, for his nerdy sci-fi series.

And when he did manage it, Leo’s laugh was the same too.

It broke Mikey’s heart to watch afterwards; Leo fading away too quickly, and hiding behind his drugs and fear again.

It wasn’t fair. Nothing was ever fair for them. Not even before this life.

The wars, the losses, the things they’d had to do… Mikey couldn’t tell if their new human lives were better or worse.

They were free to walk the surface world, could lead normal lives now. But, Mikey supposed the price for that had been their memories and being a family.

He wasn’t sure anymore why he remembered their past lives, seeing as Leo didn’t. Why him? He didn’t know what to do after this.

Mikey missed Donnie and Raph even more now; they would’ve known what to do. He was just the youngest brother; he didn’t know how to help people like this. He could make them laugh; maybe distract them for a bit from the real problems, but…

Mikey couldn’t do anything except keep a hold of Leo’s hand, and stubbornly refuse to let go.

He’d found one of his brothers; he wasn’t going to let Leo pull away just because he was scared.

Mikey didn’t want to be alone anymore.

 

 

  

Sometimes, if Mikey wasn’t focusing on what he was saying, he’d slip into conversations they’d had in their past lives.

“-and so then Don said we couldn’t build a space laser like that, because it was apparently against the laws of physics or something, but whatever we’ve seen him do weirder stuff than that before, and _I_ said _‘gee Donnie, if this is against the laws of physics, then how you do you explain the turtle titan sittin’ in the garage right there-‘”_

“Mikey?”

“-what?” Mikey asked, pausing his ramble.

Leo was tilting his head, leaning on the table with one elbow. He moved his rook across the chessboard as he spoke. “You lost me again. Who’s Donnie?”

Mikey opened his mouth to snap _“He’s our brother, shell for brains.”_ , but shut it again so fast he bit his tongue.

Right. Wrong lifetime.

Mikey shrugged, and purposefully moved his knight in the wrong way. “Oh, just a guy I knew. You’d like him a lot.”

“That’s not how a knight moves, Mikey.”

“Ah, but it is when I’ve elected to make him a _queen_ _knight!_ ”

“That’s not- you can’t do that during chess.”

“You can when it’s Hamato house rules!”

“I- what??”

“So yeah, anyways, I knew this _other_ guy once, Mondo Gecko. Cool kid, little out of it, but dude, ain’t we all? He lived in NYC, born and bred, had a real knack for skateboarding and stuff. I liked him a lot, was really neat to hang out with when our- my bros were givin’ me a hard time. Really chill of him, to let me wander in and out all day at his place. He was a bit younger than us both; sorta miss him a lot lately-”

“Mikey, that’s still not how you move a knight.”

“It totally is. Queen knight, remember?”

“Have you ever even played chess before?”

Too easy, distracting Leo from the slip ups Mikey made.

A big part of Mikey felt bad for it, because Leo was really trusting despite his rough life. Maybe it was the flicker of remembering Leo sometimes got, maybe it was loneliness. Either way, it was bittersweet.

Mikey would catch his brother looking at him sometimes, the same way Donnie or Raph had very occasionally looked at Leo.

Like he trusted Mikey to know what to do, no matter what happened.

It felt way too close to Leo looking up to him, like an… an older brother.

Which was so wrong, so unbelievably _wrong_.

 _Leo_ was the elder brother, not Mikey! He was the goofball, the one who was always slacking off or running his mouth, or being an annoyance that would drag the four of them into one big tussle… he wasn’t an older brother. He didn’t _want_ to be an older brother.

Leo kept looking to him for guidance, for _leadership._

Mikey’s stomach flipped whenever he did that; Leo asking softly what they should do, or where they should go, or any number of little things.

Mikey didn’t want to be a leader. He just wanted his brother back.

Unfortunately… it didn’t look like he was going to get either of those wishes.

Leo needed someone to hold onto, someone who wouldn’t leave him no matter what. Mikey would just have to be that person for now, even if it meant filling the position he’d wanted for Leo.

Mikey had never been a leader, or an older brother.

He’d have try being one anyways.

 

 

 

Mikey fell into his routine with Leo. Get up, eat breakfast together, spend every free period together, and only separate for therapy and checkups. Also for bed time, since they weren’t allowed to room together.

Mikey, for the first time since he was six in his past life, wanted to share a room with his older brother. Leo never said it out loud, but he’d always glance back at Mikey when the nurses took him to the isolation wing. Mikey got the message loud and clear; Leo didn’t like being separated either.

They just had to live with it though, since the only way to change that was to escape the facility. Which, for a number of reasons, they couldn’t.

Leo didn’t want to leave. He’d said so.

Mikey wanted to leave _so badly,_ but… he also didn’t anymore.

If Leo had shown up in the asylum, then maybe…?

There was a chance, a slim impossible chance, that another of their brothers could show up.

Mikey would stick it out, just in case that did happen.

Miracles of miracles… it did. Just not the way he’d hoped.

 

 

 

Mikey paged through his novel, a trade with Leo from earlier; Leo had Mikey’s copy of a civilian right’s history book, and Mikey had Leo’s copy of a fifties sci-fi novel. There were alien women in it, the lizard kind. Raph probably would have loved it.

A group of patients entered the room, Mikey watching them out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t pay them much attention. Five new arrivals, experiencing their first free block. Maybe there’d be some interesting ones. Other than that vague awareness, Mikey didn’t give them much thought.

Until, that is, he heard a male voice pitch a bit louder than the rest.

Mikey looked up, dropping the book onto his lap.

One of the patients, an extraordinarily thin and tall boy, was talking to the nurses at their watch desk. Mikey could only see him from the back, but he observed the tanned skin and wildly tangled black hair of the boy. The facilities hospital clothes were too big for him, almost draping the boy in extra fabric. Mikey hadn’t seen the boy before then, but…

His voice though. Mikey _knew_ that voice.

He put down his book, and got up off the couch. Leo’s question followed him, but Mikey’s focus had tunneled around the newcomer.

Mikey waded through the other ward patients, making his way to the nurse’s desk. The voices arguing there became easier to hear, and their words took form.

“-no, no _please_ , you don’t understand- I _need_ my computer. Please, at least give me my I-pad back!” The boy exclaimed desperately, long thin fingers clenching at the desk’s edge. “For the love of god- _wǒ bùnéng xiāngxìn nǐ de báichī_ \- give me my damn tech and I’ll leave you alone! Wait, I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean to snap, just _please-”_

“Sir, I’m going to need you to step back from the desk, and lower your voice. You’re causing a disturbance,” The female nurse said calmly, raising her hands to placate the new patient. She reached out to place a hand on the boy’s and-

“ _Don’t touch me!”_ He snapped, yanking his hand away. “None- _none of you touch me._ Please, I- I swear, I’ll behave, I’ll be so quiet you won’t know I’m there just _please_ give me back my devices _please you don’t understand-”_

“Sir, we have rules against usage of technology within the building, and you haven’t been cleared for personal items yet-”

“ _I don’t care just give them to me!”_ He half shrieked, then slapped a hand over his mouth. “Wait- wait I didn’t mean it- I’m sorry please just- _I need it to function I need it please I need it-”_

Mikey’s eyes widened, listening to the increasingly pleading tones the boy was using. Yikes, rough first day. But that was definitely Donnie’s voice, high and anxious like he always got when something was really bothering him. Maybe if Mikey…

Mikey reached out, and softly tapped Donnie’s shoulder. Maybe if he talked to Donnie, he could do the same as he’d done for Leo, calm him back down-

Donnie spun around, and the back of his hand caught Mikey’s right cheek.

 _“I SAID DON’T TOUCH ME!”_ Donnie screamed, dull red eyes wide and terror filled.

Leo was right next to Mikey suddenly, already reaching out at Donnie to do _something-_ probably to hurt Donnie- so Mikey grabbed Leo’s extended arm, and yanked him back, all the while holding his stinging cheek.

There was a momentary pause, Leo shaking in Mikey’s grip, and Donnie staring at both of them. Mikey watched as the realization of what’d just happened dawned on Donnie’s expression, and then-

“I’m sorry,” Donnie whispered, pushing his back against the desk behind him. He was shaking too, eyes darting every direction. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to I swear- I just- _I said don’t touch me I’m so sorry-”_

Then two security guards pushed past Mikey and Leo, and grabbed Donnie’s wrists. Donnie went ballistic, thrashing in the men’s grips as they hauled him away from the desk.

 _“DON’T TOUCH ME DON’T TOUCH ME-!!”_ Donnie shrieked, trying to tear himself out of the men’s hands. _“RÀNG WǑ ZǑU- I just- wǒ zhǐshì xiǎng yào wǒ de diànnǎo- stop it stop it STOP IT! LET GO OF ME LET GO LET GO LET GO-”_

He broke off, as the nurses surrounded him; his words devolving into a wordless howl. Mikey tightened his grip on Leo’s wrist as the men and women held his brother down, sliding a needle into Donnie’s elbow and pushing the sedatives into his system.

Donnie was still screaming, all the way out of the entertainment room and down the hall. It echoed through the facility’s walls, setting everything and everyone edge.

Mikey hadn’t been able to move, watching his brother be hauled away like a rapid animal.

He felt like the carpet had been yanked out from under him all over again.

Leo was shaking, breaths coming short and heavy. Mikey turned to take care of that, whispering that it was fine, he was fine Leo was fine, they were both fine. Mikey loosened his bruising grip on Leo’s wrist, and slid his hand into Leo’s.

They were fine. His cheek hurt a bit, but they were fine.

Donnie however, very obviously, was not.

 

 

 

Donnie screamed, too many people too many lights- they were touching him _they were touching him-_

Everything hurt, especially his hand. His arm, both his arms- people were _touching him please stop touching him-_

Everything was too white too loud too _everything-_

_(Please he just wanted his computer back; if he had his computer he was SAFE-)_

Everything was starting to blur around the edges, the sedatives they’d put into his body taking effect. His hoarse scream died off, and left him mumbling pleads to the men holding him.

 _(Everything, every_ one _, they were going to hurt him, everything absolutely everything was a threat an ENEMY-)_

“…please… please just let me go, st-stop touching me, please…” He rasped out, hearing voices talking around his blurry vision. “I- I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I just wanted my computer back… I’ll be good, I promise…”

The bright light got brighter, the men pulling him into a new room from the hallway. They picked him up by his limp legs and arms, and laid him on a bed. Donnie couldn’t fight them, feeling his wrists being strapped down.

_“Please… let me go…”_

The boy he’d slapped floated across his vision, the image of the freckles on his face being covered by a bright red mark.

Who was that?

Donnie felt… like he knew him…

The sedatives dragged him under.

Donnie passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy late halloween folks, hope you enjoyed this update!  
> Btw, the language Donnie was speaking was Chinese. More on that later, his back story comes next.
> 
> (40 kudos already??? what the heckies guys, i'm so flattered!)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY CHEESE AND CRACKERS THERE'S A LOT OF YOU FOR JUST FOUR CHAPTERS

Donnie might’ve been crazy, but that wasn’t his fault.

After all, it’d been everyone else who drove him there. 

 

 

 

Sometimes, when he was alone in his darkened room, surrounded by his computer screens and familiar music playlists; Donnie felt like a functional human being. No, he felt better than that. He felt like a well-oiled machine, a perfectly maintained monitor, an endless algorithm with no misplaced codes or calculations-

He felt calm, in control, and very nearly happy.

Then, every single time without fail; he’d step out of his bedroom and go right back to feeling like someone had crossed every wire he had. Like every single one of those wires were pulled from their correct sockets, and plugged directly into the constant undercurrent of _fear_ his brain had.

Donnie didn’t remember ever not feeling anxious.

It wasn’t so bad when he was much, much younger; but with physical and intellectual growth, paranoia and anxiety twisted itself around his mind and would not. let. go.

In the moments, which were often, that his fears took hold of him; they changed him from a certified genius, into a shrieking and terrified mess.

Donnie hated it.

He hated most things, most _people_ -

No, no that was wrong-

Donnie hated everyone he knew. Absolutely everyone.

And when his grandfather forcibly dragged him from his room- unfamiliar men holding Donnie’s arms and legs as they pulled him out- Donnie’s hate had burned and howled like never before.

 

 

 

Donnie stared at his food tray, examining the sorry looking oatmeal, eggs, and packaged apple slices.

He touched the top of the oatmeal, and pushed the top layer away to check for inner warmth. None. The food was already cold.

Of course it was.

Donnie’s grip tightened around his spoon, as another patient somewhere nearby made a loud clatter with their tray. Someone shouted a word across the cafeteria, and he flinched. The fluorescent lights above were too bright, and hurt his eyes.

Donnie’s arm still felt sore from the day before, where the nurses had forcefully injected him.

His wrists and ankles weren’t rubbed raw from the restraints in the isolation ward, but he could still feel exactly where they’d been wrapped around his limbs. Those patches of skin buzzed with imaginary sensations.

Donnie tried to shrink his focus back onto the food in front of him.

_(Don’t think about the noise, don’t think about the people, don’t think about any of that just focus on one thing at a time.)_

He looked at the oatmeal again.

It didn’t look any more appetizing than it had a second ago.

He knew this was a facility that had regular checkups and health inspections- they had to, it was a part of the code of ethics, and basic human rights, that the patients be healthy and kept in clean spaces. They had to be fed safe, nutritional foods; balanced diets and proper meals for their whole stay.

Donnie couldn’t shake the suspicion though; that eating anything they gave him would make him sick.

_(An estimate of 1 in 6 Americans (or 48 million people) got sick from food poisoning each year; and in that count, 128,000 were hospitalized, 3,000 died of the foodborne diseases-)_

Donnie dropped his spoon, and put his hands on his knees; digging his blunt nails into the white hospital clothes he’d been dressed in.

_(Don’t think about the statistics of food poisoning. Don’t think about stories of willful and knowing mental patient abuse. Don’t think about any of that.)_

He’d starve if he didn’t eat.

He had no appetite though, not with his oldest and bitterest companion buzzing around his thoughts.

Ah yes, anxiety; it’d been nearly a whole thirty seconds since they’d last spoken.

Donnie felt exposed and vulnerable, sitting in a huge room with bright lights everywhere and tens of unfamiliar people.

He missed his room. His one safe space, the place he had a hundred percent control over everything that happened. His modems and monitors and bright screens he never turned off… his boarded windows and drawn curtains and familiar possessions surrounding him… the seven locks on his door, and the three chains added to that…

_(He did not however, miss his dear old grandfa-)_

Someone sat down across from Donnie, jerking him out of his attempt at calming down.

Oh joy.

It was the boy he’d slapped, as well as his companion.

With his glasses retrieved from his room- where he’d left them yesterday in his half-blurry fugue to get his other possessions back- Donnie could see the boy he’d assaulted in much better detail then the first time they’d met.

He’d been correct about the freckles spattered across the mystery boy’s face, framed by shaggy dark curls that sprung everywhere. Bright blue eyes and a cheeky grin were being aimed at Donnie, and he had no idea why.

The other boy, much darker than the first and with closely cropped hair, was a near opposite in mannerisms; navy blue eyes aimed away from Donnie, and a calm blankness settled over his features. Though every few seconds, he would glance over at Donnie. Looking for something, or waiting for something?

Donnie stared at them.

They stared back.

Donnie’s palms started to sweat, and his undercurrent of anxiety became an overcurrent.

However unintentionally, he’d assaulted the boy sitting across from him. Said boy was going to be- in a manner of speaking- his neighbor for the foreseeable future. The boy was also a patient in a mental hospital, and who knew what sort of condition had landed him here.

He could be violent. He could be vengeful. He could be vindictively pleased with the idea of causing Donnie an equal amount of pain for the slap he’d received.

Donnie felt that his luck would only be so kind.

He needed to head things off before the other teen decided to say anything, stop whatever potentially angry conversation he’d come to have with Donnie before it even started. He needed to do this perfectly, precisely, he couldn’t afford to mess it up, couldn’t afford to fail at this-

“Why are you at my table.”

Nailed it.

_(Someone just kill him already, it would be less stressful.)_

The boy across from Donnie laughed, and leaned forwards on one elbow. “Because we wanted to say hi, an’ checkup how you were doin’ after your first day here. Pretty rough break, getting sent to the isolation ward right off. You doin’ alright?”

Donnie swallowed hard, and took a shaky breath.

The boy was still smiling, and the one beside him was still calm and solemn. They didn’t seem like they were here to confront him. Yet.

They could still be biding their time, waiting for him to relax and then they’d spring-

Something. They’d spring something.

_(-shut up shut up, stupid anxiety irrationality-)_

They were still waiting for him to respond. Shit.

“I-I’m fine,” Donnie managed to get out.

“Mm, that’s good,” The boy said, nodding along.

Another pause of silence.

Donnie gripped the fabric of his pants and prayed a little harder that the ground swallow him up.

God. He hated people. And conversation. And everything involving socialization that was outside a computer screen.

“OH!” The mystery boy suddenly gasped, startling Donnie _and_ his companion. “We didn’t introduce ourselves! Sorry, morning meds kinda scramble my brain a bit, ha ha. So, I’m Mikey, sometimes called Michelangelo, aaaaand _this guy-”_ Mikey nudged his companion, who nudged back, smiling with the smallest of smiles. “-is Leo, sometimes called Leonardo.”

Leo nodded, and mumbled, “Hey.”

Donnie stared at them both.

“Those can’t possibly be your real names.”

Truly the master of social convention.

“Well. I guess not _technically…_ ” Mikey admitted with a shrug. “But we can change ‘em once we’re legal. That’s what I’m gonna do anyways. What about you, what’s your name?”

Right. Introductions went two ways.

“…I’m Donghai, but I suppose you could call me Don-” Donnie stuttered on the rest of his sentence, staring at Mikey’s wrist.

The hand Mikey was leaning on, it had his hospital wristband. Said wristband had the grey color codes indicating that Mikey was a semi-volatile patient when triggered.

Donnie’s eyes flickered over to Leo’s wrists.

Leo was leaning on both his elbows, glancing off into nothing with hazy eyes.

His wristband had a stark black mark next to his barcode.

Donnie’s anxiety turned into a thick storm, clouding over his foremost thoughts. Of course, of _course_ the boy he’d assaulted was friends with a registered violence offender. Of course!

Though in all fairness, Donnie’s own wristband now had a grey mark on it.

 _(If the nurses had thought he couldn’t read their categorizing charts from upside down on their clipboards, they’d thought_ wrong _.)_

It wasn’t the same though, Donnie knew what _he_ was going to do when he was pushed; he had absolutely no idea what these two boys would do.

He didn’t know them. He didn’t know their behavior patterns. He didn’t know what would set them off, finally make them snap and lash out at him and-

_(This was unsafe he was unsafe he didn’t know how to predict these two he didn’t know them even though-)_

“Hey, dude, you’re lookin’ a little pale. You alright?” Mikey asked, breaking through Donnie’s stream of panicking thoughts.

“I- I, um, I-”

Leo blinked and looked over at Donnie, furrowing his expression with concern. _(Why concern they didn’t even know each other why did he even care-)_

Now both of them were looking at him. Fantastic.

Two sets of eyes were too many. One set of eyes was too many. Anyone other than him was too many people for one space.

Donnie’s lungs felt tight and dysfunctional, and that feeling climbed further up his throat the longer Mikey and Leo stared at him.

 _(Donnie couldn’t catch all his blind spots, couldn’t predict every movement the people around him were making, he didn’t know_ _any of them he was running essentially_ blind _right now-)_

Donnie sucked in a short wheezy breath.

He was having an anxiety attack in public.

Again.

Donnie jerked out of his seat, knocking his knees on the metal of the table and stumbling as he tried to leave. “I’m sorry, I just- I can’t- I have to go-”

 “Wait, what’s wrong-?” Mikey started to stand up too, which only made Donnie’s hurried movements even faster.

“Leave me alone!” Donnie snapped, only to flinch back and mentally slap himself.

 _(You haven’t even apologized yet and you’re already antagonizing him again you fucking_ imbecile- _)_

He didn’t respond to whatever Mikey said after that, walking quickly as he could towards the exit of the cafeteria. People were easy to avoid, thank god, since every other patient was still sitting down. But their _eyes_ though- Donnie felt them follow his every movement, and it only served to increase the static roar in his ears. Their voices blurring together, amicable conversations sounding louder and louder with every step he took, swallowing his own thoughts and tightening his lungs he felt like he was _drowning-_

“I’m not feeling well,” He _(barely)_ managed to mumble to the nurse at the door, fisting one hand into the loose fabric of his shirt. “C-can I please go lie down?”

“Oh, is the food not agreeing with you?” She asked kindly. “Not a problem dear, I’ll take you back to your wing and you can get some rest there…”

Donnie nodded, following the nurse as she led him out of the room. He stepped around the guards as he passed them, and dodged getting too close to the replacement nurse heading to where the first had been.

The further he walked from the noisy, bright, and all too crowded cafeteria, the less Donnie felt like he was being strangled by his own fear.

On the other hand though; he still felt the looks Mikey and Leo had been giving him, the two shades of blue following him long after he left the room.

 

 

 

 It would have been nice if that were the last time Mikey and Leo attempted to interact with Donnie.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

Every single meal time, without fail, Mikey would immediately spot Donnie as he walked through the door, and wave enthusiastically for Donnie to come sit with them.

Donnie typically turned and walked to the complete opposite of the cafeteria, and sat at the least occupied table he could find.

He also ignored the horrible pressing feeling of _Déjà vu_ he kept having, seeing those two particular patients together.

He knew them from somewhere, some _when_. Donne had racked his considerably large brain for memories of two individuals named Mikey and Leo, and had found nothing. Not a single school grade, playground meeting, or even casual interaction somewhere on a street.

Donnie hated a lot of things, but he _loathed_ being unable to figure out something that he _knew_ the answer to.

An untouched part of himself was very curious about the feeling of knowing, and why it tugged so insistently at him.

The rest practically screamed that he should avoid letting it take hold, because if nothing else, he could at least trust that such a feeling would be utterly _un_ trustworthy.

He avoided Mikey and Leo like the plague, ducking out of any room they entered, or about-facing when he saw them coming his way.

Donnie spent as much time as he was allowed to in his room, avoiding not just the two strange boys but everyone else too; only eventually emerging because the doctors put him on the list for ‘mandatory socialization’.

So not only was he banned from technology of any kind, _(on the account of a ‘cyber addiction’)_ , but he also wasn’t allowed to isolate himself anymore. It, according to his doctor, would be detrimental to his recovery.

As much as he wanted to, Donnie did not tell the doctor to take his prescriptions and choke on them. Donnie knew his brain better than anyone, knew _himself_ better than anyone, and he was damn well smart enough to know their therapy wasn’t going to help him.

After all, even with the expensive cocktail of drugs they were trying to hook him on, none of it was going to have an effect. Donnie supposed that his grandfather’s under the counter medication had been good for that at least; the years of trial and error prescriptions giving him immunity like nothing else.

Too bad it didn’t cure his social anxiety. Shame.

Though that’s what this sentence was for; to ‘cure’ him of his embarrassing failings.

Donnie felt it was going to be a long while before he went home, if that’s what his grandfather was waiting for.

Not that he was particularly excited by that prospect, but being in his grandfather’s house was a better alternative to being in the facility. At least there, he’d had wifi.

 

 

 

Donnie listlessly flipped the page of his worn textbook, refreshing his memory on college level physics. He hadn’t read this particular one before, though it wasn’t much of a deviant from the ones he had. It made him want for a pen and stack of papers. Numerals and equations were a good help with steadying his mind, in the absence of his computers.

Thinking of his computers made his hands twitch, spasming his grip ever so slightly around the book.

Addiction or not he _needed_ those pieces of technology.

Donnie took a long deep breath, and rubbed the spot on his nose where his glasses rested. Now he was back to square one. Thinking of his withheld possessions made him anxious and surly, and he’d been trying to be less of both of those.

At this rate, he’d be worse than a heroin addict by the time he got out of here. Twitchy and snappish, looking for his next fix above everything else.

Oh wait, he already was like that. He was a bit ahead of the game then.

That got a dry chuckle out of him, the first one in the week since he’d arrived. Self-deprecating humor, it never failed to deliver.

A certain set of people though, suddenly coming over to sit in Donnie’s carefully selected corner, soured that brief moment of humor.

He’d chosen this corner because not only was it the farthest from everyone else in the entertainment room, but it was also _unoccupied_ and very much _not filled with people who would only serve to jack up his anxiety even more he was sitting here for a reason why couldn’t they just understand this-_

Donnie took another deep breath, and cut off his own panicked rambling.

Here we go again.

At least Mikey and Leo were a good four feet from Donnie, _(not enough he needed at least a whole room-),_ and it didn’t look like they were planning on getting any closer.

Maybe, if Donnie ignored them and looked only at his textbook, they’d go away and wouldn’t talk to him.

“Whatcha reading?” Mikey asked, tilting his head and looking at the cover of Donnie’s book. “Oh wow, I barely hit twenty-dash-two for math, and you’re reading that for fun? That’s amazing.”

Donnie glanced out of the corner of his eye, noting Mikey’s seemingly genuine interest. He looked back at his textbook. “…it’s not that impressive.”

A lie. Donnie knew he was smart, knew he was likely three if not four times smarter than anyone in the room. He just didn’t want to end up getting ostracized and possibly beat up for bragging about that.

_(“You’re only as good as your mind. If you fail to reach the highest bar, then you’ve failed to meet my expectations, Donghai-”)_

“Nah dude, it’s all kinds of impressive. You been to college yet?” Mikey asked, scooting a few inches closer to Donnie.

Donnie jerked away at the sudden movement, pressing closer to the corner walls.

Mikey stopped moving, and his interested smile turned into a concerned frown. “Oh. Sorry. No touching, right?”

 _(Why was he concerned why did he_ care _what in god’s name did he_ want _from Donnie-)_

Donnie nodded shakily, trying to remember how to breathe.

“Alright then.” Mikey said simply, moving back to where he’d been before. He opened up the book he’d brought with him, and started from a bookmark inside.

Donnie waited another few seconds, watching for Mikey or the dazed seeming Leo to make any other movements. When neither did, he un-tensed himself, and returned to sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Moments ticked by, and neither of the intruding teens spoke. Donnie attempted to refocus on his reading again, but the presences all too close by distracted him too much. He shut his book with a snap, gripping the binder as he turned to glare at Mikey and Leo.

“Why did you sit _here_ of all places,” Donnie bit out, unable to find a kinder tone in his anxiety. “I chose this spot for a reason, it was _empty._ ”

He just wanted them gone, was that so much to ask? Donnie hadn’t gotten a moment to himself in so long, real and complete privacy from everyone and anyone. His room barely counted, not with the knowledge that the nurses and security guards could and would enter at any moment maybe when he was sleeping maybe while he was awake and he just _couldn’t handle that kind of stress not when even while he was asleep he got zero privacy of any kind-_

“Uh… I guess we sat here ‘cause we wanted to be friendly…?” Mikey replied with a shrug, unknowingly overriding Donnie’s panicked rambling. “I mean. We got off on the wrong foot, and I get that, so I wanted to fix it.”

Donnie blinked, and then narrowed his eyes. “Of course we got off on the wrong foot, I _slapped_ you-”

 _(-brilliant idea, remind the possibly volatile patient that you assaulted him, there’s no possible way that could go wrong you incredible fucking_ idiot- _)_

This would be a good time to apologize.

“-and I-I’m sorry for that,” Donnie said, switching gears and trying to salvage the situation. “I was having a bad day, as you could, ah, tell, and I- you- it was a bad moment. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to slap you, and I certainly didn’t mean any offense by the… offense.”

Vaguely, Donnie wondered if there was an invention yet that could detect internal screams. He suspected that his might break the graphing charts for it.

“Oh that? Don’t even talk about it, it’s all water under the bridge,” Mikey said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “To be honest, it was more of a surprise than you actually hurting me. And you weren’t totally to blame either; I shouldn’t have tried to touch you without your permission. Folks don’t like that, right Leo?”

Mikey nudged Leo, who blinked and refocused on the present situation. “…what? What were we talking about?”

Mikey’s smile twitched, like it was trying to slide into something else, but he recovered in a split second. “Just about personal space bubbles.”

“Oh. Yeah, I like those.”

“Thought you might. Donnie likes ‘em a ton, so maybe you and him could bond over that!” Mikey exclaimed, adding enthusiasm to his voice again. Though it was mostly lost on Donnie, who was stuck on something Mikey had just said.

“How- how did you know what my nickname was?” Donnie said hoarsely, anxiety creeping back in and squeezing his throat. Why did Mikey know that, _why did he know that?_

Donnie didn’t remember ever telling him that bit of information. Or even hinting at it.

“Oh- uh, well…” Mikey fumbled with his book, his smile faltering. “It just- I don’t know, felt right?”

Donnie’s fingers dug into the cover of his textbook.

He’d been given that nickname in grade school, because his teachers hadn’t felt comfortable calling out the word _‘dong’_ for attendance. He’d kept it to avoid bullying from his peers, but also because… it did feel right. It felt familiar, and better than his full name.

Mikey shouldn’t know that though. No one but Donnie knew that.

“I didn’t give you permission to use it,” Donnie said, instead of blurting out the rest of his thoughts.

Mikey’s smile slipped a bit more, and he seemed hurt by Donnie’s denial for him to use the name. “O-okay. I won’t, sorry.”

Donnie felt nauseous, and for some inexplicable reason, _guilty_ for making Mikey upset.

 _(He didn’t understand- why did Mikey make him feel like that, why did he make Donnie feel anything at all?! And Leo, his soft glances of concern and worry and_ why did they care?! _Why did either of them care what did they want from him why did Mikey_ know _that about his nickname why were they so insistent about being_ near him _-)_

A thick wave of static rose up inside Donnie, and started to drown out the air in his lungs. The room, only ten people in it including himself, suddenly became too overwhelming to be in. The lights on the ceiling too bright, the wide windows too exposing, the people- the _patients_ sitting too close became suffocating to Donnie.

Donnie sucked in a shuddering breath, and gripped his book hard enough his nails left crescents on the cover.

He needed to leave.

He _hated_ having panic attacks in front of people, and that’s where he could feel himself headed.

_(“Can’t even handle going to school without throwing a fit; you disappoint me, Donghai. Shameful, acting so weak is unbecoming of a man. Do I have to discipline you again, or are you going to shape up and stop complaining?”)_

“I-I have to go,” Donnie said, repeating his words from the last time this happened. He scrambled to stand up, towering once again at his full six foot plus height, and started taking long strides towards the exit.

“Ah- wait, did I say something wrong again??” Mikey called after Donnie, and the sound of something hitting the ground followed that question. Donnie didn’t have to turn his head to know that Mikey was following him.

He sped up his steps.

Donnie got out of the room, and kept walking. However-

“Donnie- Donnie wait! I’m sorry, tell me what I said wrong and I’ll apologize for it!”

Donnie paused, and swallowed thickly. The desperation in Mikey’s voice pulled at his heartstrings, even though it _shouldn’t_.

Donnie turned, looking back at his stubborn pursuer. Mikey’s expression was caught between determination, and something that looked like grief.

 _(Why why_ why _did he look like that, why did Mikey feel upset all because Donnie wouldn’t actually talk to him-)_

“I just want to be friends, okay?” Mikey said, a hint of pleading in his tone. “That’s… that’s all I want from you.”

Donnie gripped his borrowed textbook closer to his chest, thinking over those words. His eyes slid away from Mikey, staring at the floor instead.

_(He didn’t understand, not even a little. There was no benefit, no gain from being his friend, not like this, not in this place where he had nothing to offer-)_

“Why…” Donnie took a shuddering breath, his airways tight and uncooperative. “Why… won’t you just leave me alone?”

“I…” Mikey sighed, the sound echoing through the hallway. “I _can’t_ , alright? I can’t explain why, but I have to… _we_ have to be friends.”

Donnie’s buzzing paranoia amped up, swarming around his thoughts.

“You know me, somehow. Where do you know me from?” Donnie demanded, trying to ignore how close he felt to drowning. He glanced up at Mikey, looking for the boy’s reaction.

Mikey grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t explain that either. I’m sorry. We just do, we know each other really well. If you’d just trust me-”

 _“I can’t trust anyone,”_ Donnie snapped, anger breaking through the strangling anxiety in his throat. Mikey flinched at Donnie’s words, and something in Donnie curled up and _hurt_ for putting such a miserable expression on the other teen.

“Yes you can. You can trust me,” Mikey said, smoothly erasing the pain from his expression. He returned to smiling encouragingly, and held out a hand to Donnie. “Give it a shot? Me an’ Leo, we really do want to be your friends.”

Donnie looked away again, the kind and genuine look in Mikey’s eyes sending his emotions shrieking.

_(Wrong, wrong wrong wrong- Donnie couldn’t trust anyone, there was no one alive that he could trust there was only himself, he was to only one he could rely on everything else was a pretense for something that would hurt him the second it got a chance-)_

_(“Don’t you talk back to me, don’t you_ dare _talk back to me, Donghai-”)_

“You keep away from me. Both of you.” Donnie bit out, voice wavering as his mind clawed itself to shreds. “You- both of you are dangerous to me.”

“What, no we aren’t-”

“Your wristbands say so!” Donnie hissed, intensely aware of what a bad idea this was. _(But he needed Mikey to leave him alone and the only way to do that-)_ “That grey marking on your code? It means the nurses and guards have to keep an extra eye on you in case you decide to go ballistic on someone.”

Mikey glanced at his wrist, and frowned. “I wouldn’t though-”

“You only get that mark if you _have_ attacked a staff member here, or a-another patient. And your ‘ _friend’_ Leo, his wristband-”

“Hey, leave Leo out of this-”

“ _-has a black mark._ ” Donnie said viciously, ignoring Mikey’s attempt to interrupt. “And do you know what those represent? That not only would that person attack someone else, but they might _kill them too._ I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty fucking _dangerous_ to me.”

“You don’t get to say that,” Mikey said, his smile- _finally he stopped smiling-_ turning into a deep frown. Mikey’s posture looked angry, and frustrated, and _thank god_ because that was something Donnie could understand at least. “Leo’s doing the best he can with the circumstances he’s got. You don’t know anything about who he is, or what kind of life he’s lived-”

“Well what do you know, something we have in common!” Donnie spat, cutting Mikey off again. “Neither of you know me, and _I don’t know you._ So why the hell won’t you leave me alone?!”

Mikey didn’t respond, his lips pressed in a thin line, and staring at Donnie with- _with pity._

Donnie stood there, staring right back, and feeling very aware of his panting breaths and brittle voice.

Maybe Mikey would leave him alone now, knowing how unpleasant and sharp Donnie could be. Maybe he’d stop trying to be friends and give Donnie his space and solitude back, and go back to hanging around with only-

Movement caught Donnie’s eye.

Leo had appeared at some point in the hallway, probably trailing after Mikey like he seemed to always be. He looked-

Donnie’s shrieking thoughts stalled.

Leo looked hurt, but also _resigned_. Leo turned his head away, and acted like he was apologetic for his own existence.

A semi-hysterical _“I’m sorry”_ swelled in Donnie’s mind, but he shoved it back down. He shouldn’t feel bad for that, shouldn’t feel sorry that he’d hurt Leo’s feelings _or_ Mikey’s. He didn’t know them, and they didn’t know him.

They were complete strangers.

_(Who felt too familiar to bear.)_

Mikey noticed Leo’s appearance in the hallway, and turned to attend to his friend. “Shit- Leo, he didn’t mean it-”

“I _did_.”

Mikey glanced over at Donnie, and gave him a glare. Good. Maybe this would be enough to keep them both away from him now.

 _(They shouldn’t care they shouldn’t care-_ he _shouldn’t care why did either of them make Donnie feel_ anything _they shouldn’t matter no one should matter to him-)_

Donnie’s anxiety overwhelmed his defensive anger, and sank back into all the places it’d been before. Swarming, choking, drowning him-

 _“Stay away from me,”_ Donnie said as a parting statement, forcing himself to ignore how that made Mikey look stricken, and Leo remorseful.

Donnie turned and walked away, leaving the other patients behind him.

Neither of them followed.

No matter what Mikey said, about him and Leo being trustworthy, it was all a lie. There was no way two random teens Donnie hadn’t even met before could be trustworthy, not when his own grandfather-

Donnie took a deep shuddering breath, trying to not hyperventilate himself into passing out.

He barely made it back to his room before he broke down.

  

 

 

When he was young, Donnie would sometimes watch other children with their parents and feel jealous.

All he had at home was an altar, photos of his mother, and his ever present grandfather.

As he grew older, he started to look at those photos of the beautiful Asian woman, and feel resentment.

It was her fault. It was _her fault_ that Donnie had to live with his grandfather.

She’d married an Indian immigrant, against her father and mother’s wishes, all because of _‘love’_. The concept felt foreign to Donnie, going against tradition and their family’s wishes simply because of a chemical reaction in the brain.

But… he couldn’t fault her for wanting to be with someone who made her happy.

Of course, drinking herself into oblivion was completely her own fault; as well as leaving Donnie in the care of his grandfather.

A brutal car crash, only two years into marriage and one year into Donnie’s life- his father died. Severe internal bleeding, irreparable organ damage; there’d been nothing the paramedics could do. He’d died before they even reached the hospital.

And before Donnie’s mother had even started the process for one funeral, the need arose for _two_ funerals.

His mother’s mother passed away in her sleep, a sudden heart attack at sixty five.

It’d been too much for Donnie’s mother, and she’d turned to drinking. Alcohol poisoning is a deadly affliction, and it was only a month after the funerals that she joined her mother and lover in the ground.

Donnie was too young to remember any of that. He only knew it from the story his grandfather had told him.

He only talked about his wife, his daughter, and the tragedy of their deaths.

He never talked about Donnie’s father, except to curse the man for ever darkening their doorstep.

Donnie didn’t even know what his father looked like, all of the man’s photos having been disposed of by his furious father-in-law shortly after Donnie’s mother had passed away.

His grandfather blamed the immigrant man for what happened.

He told Donnie, when puberty had begun to hit him and he started to shoot up, that Donnie looked too much like his father, not enough like his mother.

Donnie’s grandfather hated the man that had ‘stolen’ his daughter, and by result… hated the child that came of that marriage.

It became clear to Donnie as he grew up, that you couldn’t trust anyone, not even your own family members.

His grandfather was two faced, depending on how well Donnie impressed him that day.

Top marks and report cards with straight A’s? His grandfather would smile and congratulate him, perhaps a pat on the back or a solemn praising hug.

If Donnie slipped up and missed the top spot, or had another embarrassing panic attack at school-

Well. Those nights were never easy.

By the time he was thirteen; Donnie completed high school, and retreated to living exclusively at home. At least there, he could predict what was going to happen at any given time. It was easier than trying to keep himself under control out in the world, and weathering his grandfather’s moods when he failed to.

Mikey said Donnie could trust him, could trust that he really did want to be friends.

Ha.

The small, untouched part of Donnie’s curiosity wanted it to be that simple.

The rest of him though… he knew that nothing was that simple.

No one ever wanted to befriend another person, treat them with kindness or affection or anything resembling that- unless there was gain from it.

Donnie knew what his grandfather gained from keeping him around, so what would Mikey and Leo gain?

Nothing, they’d gain nothing; which made their interest in Donnie all the more confusing, and suspicious.

He hoped now, with their confrontation over and done with, they would leave him alone.

And if a small, insignificant part of him wilted at the thought of never speaking with them again; Donnie ignored it, and crushed it under his palm.

He didn’t need the feelings the two teens stirred in him, and wouldn’t even consider trusting those feelings. Whatever they were, the feelings were a lie.

The only person he could rely on was himself, and bizarre connection or no, that wasn’t ever going to change.

 

 

 

After Donnie’s cruel words- _(and he knew they were cruel they were so very cruel)_ \- he thought that Mikey and Leo would finally back off. Hurt someone enough, they’d leave you alone for good. He could depend on at least that parameter to his life right now, even if everything else was running on unknown ones.

When Mikey sat down across from Donnie the next morning, setting his tray down and ignoring Donnie’s stare, he was completely shocked.

“You-” Mikey said, pointing a scolding finger at Donnie. “-are going to have to do a lot of apologizing later on.”

Donnie continued to stare at him.

Mikey shoved a bite of his dry cornflakes into his mouth, apparently disinclined to use the milk offered to them. “You really hurt Leo’s feelings, and now he’s all sad and mopey again and I _just fixed that_.”

He chewed for another few moments, and the popped another bite into his mouth.

“And before you say it, _no_ , I’m going to go away and leave you alone.”

More chewing.

“You gonna eat that?”

Donnie kept staring. Then-

Donnie took a long, deep breath, and decided to just ignore Mikey. If confrontation wasn’t going to work, then maybe cold silence would.

He shoved a frustrated bite of his toast into his mouth, and set to stubbornly ignoring every attempt at conversation that Mikey made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm shocked and flattered how well this story has caught on. Like, holyshit, I think with this posting we'll hit 100 kudos and then some if the readership rate keeps its speed.
> 
> (What the heeeeeeeeeeeeck)
> 
> So, how did you all enjoy this chapter? Lol, I know Donnie's story isn't explained yet, but crikey this chapter just got so long I decided to give him two chapters instead of one.  
> Donnie is a special bean apparently, he gets two chapters of backstory POV. Lucky turt. (or, lucky guy rn ha ha)
> 
> aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh I can't wait to get to the end of that, the reconciliation between the three boys, and then Raph's appearance-  
> eek, I'm so excited!
> 
> Lemme know what you all thought of this! Comments give me life and vitality, not to mention motivation and validation to my writing!


	5. Chapter 4.5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leo is such a sad bean I gave him a bonus chapter of comfort.

“You- both of you are dangerous to me.”

“What, no we aren’t-”

“Your wristbands say so!”

Leo paused his steps, the words he’d meant to call out to Mikey dying on his tongue.

The other patient- the one Mikey had called _‘Donnie’_ even before he’d introduced himself to them- he was pale and wild eyed. Something, right next to the something that connected him to Mikey, reached out to comfort Donnie; help him calm down from whatever was causing him the panic attack.

Though-

Leo listened, keeping quiet as the conversation kept going.

-he had a bad feeling _he_ was the one freaking Donnie out.

Donnie was focused entirely on Mikey, and Mikey on Donnie, so neither of them saw Leo as they continued their tense conversation. “That grey marking on your code? It means the nurses and guards have to keep an extra eye on you in case you decide to go ballistic on someone.”

Leo saw Mikey glance at his wrist. “I wouldn’t though-”

“You only get that mark if you _have_ attacked a staff member here, or a-another patient. And your ‘ _friend’_ Leo, his wristband-”

“Hey, leave Leo out of this-”

“ _-has a black mark._ ”

Leo flinched, taking a step backwards.

He wanted to cover his ears, and pretend what Donnie was saying wasn’t true.

“And do you know what those represent? That not only would that person attack someone else, but they might _kill them too._ I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty fucking _dangerous_ to me.”

Leo’s hands curled into fists, and he grit his teeth.

He knew it. That was always the reason- _he_ was always the reason.

Leo barely heard the rest of the conversation, Mikey’s defense of Leo’s actions deafened by the rising desire to go hide himself in his room. Away from people, and this person that Mikey wanted to be friends with, despite how sharp and hostile he was.

Donnie noticed Leo’s presence in the hallway, and for a split second, Leo could see remorse in his eyes. Then, it was gone, and replaced by the defensive anger he always seemed to have.

Mikey noticed Leo’s appearance in the hallway, and turned to give Leo a regretful and apologetic look. “Shit- Leo, he didn’t mean it-”

“I _did.”_

Leo ducked his head, staring hard at his own shoes.

Maybe if he hadn’t hung around Mikey so much, acting like a desperate leech instead of a friend- maybe Donnie wouldn’t be so against being friends with Mikey.

 _“Stay away from me,”_ Donnie said, and then he was gone; long legs carrying him out of the hallway, and off to somewhere he’d feel safe from Leo.

“Ah fuck, that didn’t go how I wanted it to,” Mikey mumbled, scratching at his tangled curls.

“I’m sorry,” Leo said quietly, not daring to look up at Mikey. He hunched on himself, and tried to be as small as he could. “I’m sorry.”

“Leo- Leo no, stop that,” Mikey said, stepping over to Leo, only for Leo to step backwards again. Mikey frowned, and put his hands on his hips. “Don’t do that. We did this already, and I already told you-”

“It _does_ matter,” Leo said, glancing at the direction Donnie had disappeared. “It matters to _him_.”

“Well it doesn’t fuckin’ matter to me, so stop trying to hide in your shirt, Leo,” Mikey said insistently, stepping into Leo’s personal space and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Donnie is a bit… he’s got issues that are messin’ with him right now. He doesn’t mean anything he’s saying, he’s just… he’s just scared. He always does this when he’s scared.”

Leo returned to staring at his shoes, feeling the familiar prickling of shame rise over him. He glared at the black mark he hadn’t noticed before, now all too obvious on his wristband. “He’s sacred of _me_ , Mikey.”

“Ah… not really? I think he’s scared of everything right now,” Mikey said, and Leo could hear the sadness in his voice. “Leo, you’re not scary. I don’t think you could scare a fluffy little rabbit even if you tried.”

“Donnie seems scared enough,” Leo refuted softly. Plenty of other people too, their horrified faces still living in Leo’s memory.

“Donnie’s a lil out of it at the moment, I think. We’ll work on that.”

Leo sighed, and shook his head. “He doesn’t want to be friends, Mikey. He won’t even hold a conversation. How do you expect to get through to him if he won’t talk to you?”

“You know me, Leo,” Mikey slid the hand on Leo’s shoulder around to the other side, pulling Leo into a one arm hug. “I don’t let somethin’ go till I got it. I’m stubborn, and Donnie’ll cave at some point. I just have to keep at it.”

“Why though? Why him?” Leo asked, feeling slightly better with Mikey’s unafraid attitude towards touching him. “Donnie’s… he’s kind of awful, don’t you think?”

Leo wasn’t entirely sure if he actually wanted to be friends with Donnie, mysterious connection or no. The vicious and high-strung behavior he had, and the way he treated Mikey’s genuine attempts to befriend him… it rankled Leo, that someone would treat Mikey so harshly.

Mikey hummed thoughtfully, tapping his fingers on Leo’s shoulder. “Well… it’s like I said about you; we don’t know what kind of life he’s lived, and I think he’s been doing the best with what he’s got.”

Leo huffed softly, and nodded. Mikey made a good point. “So, you’re gonna keep trying?”

“You know it!” Mikey laughed, his usual smile returning to his expression.

“But… I think I’ll keep my distance for a bit,” Leo said, and he grimaced when Mikey turned a scolding look on him. “It’s in your best interest; if Donnie’s scared of me, then I should keep off for a bit. He needs space to get to know you, without my... my presence messing things up.”

Those words felt bitter on his tongue, but that didn’t make them any less true.

Mikey’s long and sorry sigh made it clear he knew that too. “ _Augh_ , why can’t he be like you? This sucks. I want you two to get to know each other too, not just me knowing you separately.”

“You ever going to explain how know us both?” Leo asked, smiling at Mikey’s obvious frustration.

“Mmmmm… eventually, yeah. But righ’ now, I think we should just focus on getting on Donnie’s good side.”

Leo rolled his eyes, because Mikey had been saying that since he’d first asked about their supposedly shared past.

“You act like our lives are some sort of movie, being so cryptic.”

“Ooh ooh, does that mean I’m the protagonist? _Yes,_ I am so for that! That means everything works out in the end, and we get our big happy ending with movie credits and theme music and _everything!”_

Leo laughed, and let Mikey pull him back into the entertainment room.

Maybe Donnie was scared of him, and everyone else too, but Mikey wasn’t. Leo would hold onto that, even if he felt guilty for it.

Hopefully, Donnie would come around soon, and Mikey would finally explain their shared history. Leo was getting really curious, especially with the appearance of yet another person he felt an immediate and curious connection with.

Who was Mikey exactly? Who was Donnie?

And why did they already matter so much to Leo?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao, soft and sad Leo might be one of my favorite things about this AU; right up there with basically-broken-glass-and-trust-issues Donnie.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, i'm not dead, just really distracted.

Cold silence didn’t work. At all.

No matter how many withering glares, blank faced stares, or looks of utter loathing Donnie sent at Mikey, he kept coming right back.

Persistently. Insistently. Incessantly.

Donnie didn’t reply to a single conversation Mikey attempted to start with him, but the other teen seemed unbothered by that.

Donnie said absolutely nothing in return, and barely acknowledged Mikey’s near constant presence near him, for a whole week. It was, in a word, hellish.

He just wanted to be left alone.

Mikey would not leave him alone.

This fact about Donnie’s life didn’t make anything easier.

The stress of having no space to himself- no private area to unwind and stop feeling like a cramped spring for just _five minutes_ \- it was wearing hard on his mind. Mikey might not have tried to touch him again, after that single disastrous attempt, but it still pushed Donnie towards the edge of his control.

He kept waiting for Mikey’s punchline to appear, and finally end the drawn out joke he was playing.

For a whole week though, nothing happened.

Mikey just kept showing up, and sitting a reasonable distance from where ever Donnie had tried to hide that hour. With a book, or a string game, or sometimes nothing at all; Mikey would just sit there, and talk quietly.

Sometimes he’d ask questions. Often really, he’d ask questions. Donnie answered none of them that first week, stubbornly keeping mute and not meeting Mikey’s eyes.

Every time Mikey entered Donnie’s area of awareness, alarms would blare in the back of his mind. It put Donnie right back on full alert, and killed whatever shred of relaxation he’d managed.

He grit his teeth, and bit down hard on the vitriol that threatened to bubble over. He didn’t want to invite violence against him, no matter how much he wanted to verbally bite Mikey’s head off.

For a whole week, Donnie hated the very ground Mikey walked on.

He tried to do the same the week following.

It… didn’t work quite as well.

 

 

 

The thing that changed everything, was probably the first question Donnie answered.

“Where did you live?”

Donnie wasn’t sure why he did, but he finally glanced away from his book.

Mikey’s eyes lit up, happy to have finally gotten a reaction out of Donnie. He was sitting across the table from Donnie, a pile of string in front of him as he tied nonsensical knots.

“Before you came here,” Mikey continued, fingers still turning the string into a bundle of knots. “Where did you live?”

Donnie blinked, and found himself answering, “I… I lived with my grandfather, in New York.”

Mikey’s hands stilled for the first time in hours, and he stared at Donnie.

“You… you really lived there?” Mikey asked in a small voice.

Donnie’s anxiety crept upwards, and he felt uncomfortable at Mikey’s odd tone. He hesitantly nodded.

He’d lived there, yes. In the apartment above the official family business, which was a laundromat coincidentally enough. Donnie found the whole set up horribly ironic, for reasons he couldn’t disclose to anyone outside his family and their... business partners.

Mikey slowly put down his string knots, and slumped backwards into his chair. He ran a hand through his wild hair, and seemed thrown by Donnie’s answer.

“I can’t believe it. I lived there too, this whole time…” Mikey breathed, still small and odd sounding. “I… we could have met… maybe even… I could’ve…”

Donnie waited for Mikey to keep talking, but he didn’t.

After a minute or so, Donnie returned to his reading, and left Mikey to whatever he was thinking about.

He… Donnie wasn’t sure what to make of the oddly pained look Mikey had had. Or the one following, that seemed so deeply sad.

Why would Mikey be upset? Why would he care at all that they’d shared a sprawling city filled with millions of people? They were just two people with no relation at all, and no reason to have ever met. Present circumstances excluded.

Mikey didn’t talk again that whole afternoon, and left with only a short wave goodbye.

For once, Donnie returned the gesture, and got an odd smile for the effort.

He didn’t know why, even after puzzling for hours on the simple, reflexive movement, and the soft smile Mikey had aimed his way.

After that… something shifted.

Somewhere in the second week, Donnie stopped flipping into panic mode every time Mikey approached.

Then, Mikey’s voice stopped being grating, and became… _somewhat,_ unobtrusive background noise. Somewhat. He still got annoying.

And finally, Donnie started to answer questions.

_“When did you figure out you were a genius?”_

_“I always knew. Obviously.”_

_“What’s your favorite food?”_

_“I don’t eat.”_

_“Do you miss being outside?”_

_“No. I hate being outside.”_

…in a sense at least, he started answering questions.

Short replies, sometimes single worded ones. That was everything Mikey was going to get, and nothing more.

Donnie deemed to let him have that much, since…

Well, Donnie didn’t actually have a reason. Just because, Donnie would answer maybe five questions a day. He wasn’t used to doing things _‘just because’_. It was a foreign, and mildly unsettling, development in him.

Alongside the strange complacency he was developing, being in someone’s presence every single day.

 

 

 

Eventually, some days after Donnie started answering questions; Mikey brought Leo back to their group.

Donnie had done a double take, and nearly jumped away from the table.

Leo’s expression had fallen, and he’d tried to pull away from Mikey’s grip.

Mikey looked fed up with both of them, and forced Leo to sit at the table regardless.

It was an incredibly awkward breakfast, and Donnie hadn’t been able to leave the room fast enough. Heavy, mostly irrational fear clogged his brain, and he was unable to look away from the stark black mark on Leo’s wrist.

Leo had been still as stone the entire meal, and hadn’t said a single word. Donnie had been much the same. The only person who ate their whole meal, and at least attempted conversation, was Mikey. He’d still looked completely unimpressed with them both, and the way he’d sighed as Donnie bolted said everything.

Donnie hid in his room for a few hours, was forced to attend his midday therapy session, and then forced again to spend time outside his room. An encouragement for him to be _social_ of all things, the nurses had said, ousting him from his one semi-private space.

Donnie hid in the corner of their media room, and prayed for solitude or death. Either would have been nice. Mikey and Leo appeared later in the afternoon, and sat down at a table nearby Donnie’s corner.

Donnie could feel them both watching him, but he didn’t meet their eyes. He spent the whole afternoon resigned to their presences, and felt sick with anxious nausea.  He couldn’t eat anything at dinner because of that; Leo and Mikey combined putting him completely off his food.

Donnie’s hands had shook underneath the table, gripping tightly the fabric of his pants. He’d controlled his breathing enough to not hyperventilate, but it was a near thing.

Leo had looked apologetic the whole day, and only looked sorrier as it dragged on. By the time dinner was over, he looked down right miserable.

Somewhere in the drowning tide of scattered anxiety, Donnie felt a bad for causing that. Even though he wasn’t. But he was. But he wasn’t. But he was. _But he wasn’t, but he was-_

Donnie had taken his pills at bedtime, and hoped they'd knock him out hard enough he wouldn’t have dreams.

They didn’t.

 

 

 

 

_A myriad of scenes floated through his mind, disjointed and unrelated._

_Mostly negative things, bad moments from over the years. His grandfather’s ever watching presence, always skirting around Donnie’s awareness. Tight and prickly and so very volatile-_

_He saw one of his worst panic attacks, one that had gone on for hours. He watched himself, small and frightened- but also was himself, small and frightened. Curled on himself in a bathroom stall at his elementary school, refusing to leave no matter what the teachers pleaded._

_The scene shifted, just as the stall door had been pulled away, and his Grandfather’s withered hand had reached in and-_

_Donnie, tall and thin, alone in his room. Windows boarded, like they had been for years, doing nothing to keep out the sound of gunfire. His door was locked, and he knew that no one was going to come for him, but he also couldn’t shake the feeling that if a gun was loaded and close by, then it would without a doubt be aimed at_ him.

 _Always at him, guns and swords and kunais and throwing stars_ (what-?)- _aimed at him and his- his family-?_

_Gunfire got louder, and Donnie with his skinny teenage limbs, curled further into his corner and waited for the fighting to be over finally over-_

_Donnie stared at the altar of his mother and grandmother, still small yet also tall, still young but also older._

_His mother’s smiling face, ever young and pretty and seeming so happy without him- she stared back at him, blank and perfect. His grandmother’s eyes were similar, dark and aged and holding no pity for him._

_He felt his grandfather behind him- taller, always taller, stronger and more powerful- looming and making Donnie feel even smaller, even younger._

_Heavy hands landed on his shoulders, and Donnie heard his grandfather’s creaking voice. It sounded like static, or a scratched record; playing old words over and over, stretching and warping the longer Donnie listened-_

_An echoing scream, someone’s he didn’t know, long and high and filled with unimaginable pain- who-? He hadn’t ever heard that person before- where was he-? Dark and terrible and nothing like his home- he didn’t know that place or the scream or why it made his heart tear itself apart-_

Donnie started back to consciousness, and stared at the ceiling of his ward room.

Fear- old and familiar- ran up and down his body like electricity. He’d only been conscious for seconds, and he already felt like a live wire.

He was frozen for a long while, paralyzed by the after images of his dream.

When the nurses finally came to wake him, Donnie was already curled into the corner of his bed, forehead pressed against the cool wall in attempt to alleviate his headache.

He didn’t know why the last part of his dream had happened, or why it was stressing him out so much. It made no sense, it wasn’t even _real_.

What was real however, was his incredibly irritable mood, and throbbing headache.

Going back onto medication wasn’t having any positive effect on him; it just made everything objectively worse. Though, Donnie supposed he appreciated the sleeping pills somewhat, even if the doses weren’t large enough by his standards.

Donnie reluctantly left his room, taking his morning medicinal dose as he did. Along with the rest of his ward neighbors, he was filed into the cafeteria for breakfast.

Donnie felt angry, and strung out, and incredibly ready snap. He wanted to be as far as he could be from any other lifeform, and keep that distance possibly for the rest of his miserable existence.

He took his meal tray, and sat down at the emptiest table towards the back. Not ten minutes later, filing in their own ward group, Mikey and Leo appeared. They were chatting amicably, and seemed somehow chipper in the face of the early hour.

Donnie resented them deeply for that, and scowled at his steadily cooling plate of food as they approached.

He wasn’t in the mood for this. Yesterday had been an excruciating experience, and he wasn’t eager for a repeat.

Mikey and Leo sat down across from him, and continued their conversation with each other. Beyond Mikey’s cursory greeting, they didn’t try to interact with Donnie.

Most times, this would have been a relief, maybe even something he’d feel grateful for.

Today though, Donnie felt frustrated by that, for whatever reason.

He watched as they talked so easily, minute touches between them over and over. No hesitation about swapping types of yogurt containers on their trays, and utterly relaxed body language as they spoke.

Leo glanced at Donnie a few times, and Donnie, for once, met each stare with his own. Leo would look away quickly, and return to focusing on Mikey again. They were so close to one another, elbows touching and clear affection in their words.

Donnie wasn’t sure why that made something in his chest twist, but it did.

Somehow losing track of time in his weird haze of pointless anger, Donnie finally broke into the conversation. He felt resentful for whatever reason, and his words came out snappish and biting.

"Are you two _dating?"_

And Mikey, for once, shut up mid-sentence to stare at Donnie; Leo doing similarly. Leo looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and Mikey’s mouth opened and closed without sound for a solid ten seconds. Then-

"Wha- NO! Oh my god, _NO!!"_ Mikey exclaimed, a flurry of hand gestures accompanying his panicked sounding words.

"Then are you flirting with _me?"_ Donnie said, leaning onto one hand and staring without emotion at Mikey. “You keep hanging around me, even though you _know_ I don’t want you to, and you’re incredibly nice to me despite everything.”

"Oh my god, _ew ew ew,_ _NO_ I’m _sooo_ not flirting with you- like holyshit that's gross," Mikey visibly shuddered, expression screwed up in disgust.

"Well, not only are you crazy then, but you're homophobic too," Donnie said, resisting the urge to sneer at the other teen.

"Stop twisting my words!” Mikey said, scowling at Donnie. “I-I meant I just think its gross to date you two specifically _\- ah wait no that sounds just as bad, fuck-"_

"Oh, so now we're undesirables?" Donnie said, pushing his metaphorical heel deeper into the wound he’d managed to make in Mikey. Donnie’s mood coiled and churned, and the desire to keep pushing for a negative reaction from Mikey grew.

_(Why was he so upset? Why did he even care? Why why why…)_

"Donnie, please stop it. You're being really mean right now,” Mikey said, sobering from his panic and becoming stone faced serious. Donnie watched real hurt flicker through Mikey’s eyes, and again wondered why he cared. The _‘he’_ being applied to himself, as well as Mikey.

Mikey ran a hand through his hair, and Donnie noted the stress tick that seemed to be. The other teen blew a harsh breath out, shaking his head. "I just wanna be friends is all, can't we try that?"

Could they?

Donnie narrowed his eyes, his frustrated temper overriding his anxiety for pushing things into a tense situation.

Leo fidgeted and avoided Donnie's eyes, and Mikey gave Donnie a kicked puppy look.

Donnie slid his eyes away, his sick and inexplicable feelings turning his stomach.

"No," Donnie replied coldly, getting up from the table and leaving them behind. He didn’t look back, and didn’t care to.

The nurses let him go to his room with minimal fuss, and Donnie’s anger evaporated once the door shut. After that, all he felt was nauseated and terrified.

 

 

 

Only later, did Donnie identify the sickening feeling he’d felt- watching Leo and Mikey interact so easily- as jealousy.

Which made no sense. He- he hated people, plain and simple. He didn’t want anything to do with them.

They were awful, and confusing, and there was no conceivable way to ever be close to one without getting hurt. They killed and destroyed and were nothing but unpredictable messes. He couldn’t trust them, not a single one. Humans were terrible, and terrifying, and Donnie-

Donnie was…

Donnie was jealous.

He didn’t understand how to interact with someone, without adding harmful barbs to his words. It just didn’t compute with his brain.

Late at night, staring at the blackened ceiling of his room, Donnie admitted to himself… that he resented Mikey and Leo’s ability to be friendly with each other. The ease of connecting with another human, one so unfamiliar and completely unrelated, and not being on the edge the whole time; able to speak and converse without expecting a verbal or physical blow.

Donnie had never had a friend, he didn’t think. Not a single one. And here Mikey was, pushing and asking and downright pleading to be one.

Donnie rolled onto his side, and covered his ears against the deafening silence of his spotless room.

Mikey made no sense. Absolutely no sense.

Donnie didn’t understand- _couldn’t_ understand. He’d never felt like that before, unable to even comprehend something.

He closed his eyes, and threaded his thin fingers into his choppy black hair. He curled tightly on himself, and pulled at his scalp. Donnie took long slow breaths, and tried to avoid having a mini-break down in the dead of night, over something so simple and stupid.

Why.

Why why why.

Donnie couldn’t figure it out.

And while his mind struggled with that, his emotions fluctuated horribly.

He felt _guilty_ for being mean. _Guilty._

He’d never felt like that before either; never felt enough of anything or anyone for it to become guilt.

He shouldn’t care, but somehow, he did.

That confusion kept him awake all night, anxiety and guilt eating at one another until the nurses came to pull him from his room. Again.

 

 

 

Mikey and Leo appeared again that morning, and sat down across from him like yesterday had never happened.

Mikey smiled, same as he always did, and said good morning. Leo’s barely audible voice said much the same, tentative and hopeful glances aimed at Donnie.

Donnie stared at them both, struggling to understand.

He eventually ducked his head, turning his attention to his less than appetizing meal.

_(-why why why why why-)_

They didn’t leave, the other two teens. Mikey and Leo followed him all day, keeping distance but never straying too far.

Donnie felt utterly aware of them the whole day; even with a solid ten feet between them, he could practically feel them on his skin. He heard every word they said, saw every movement they made. He’d always been hyperaware of everything, of everyone, but this… this was different.

He wrestled with his unsettled emotions all through the morning and afternoon, darting glances at the other two boys on and off.

It was just before they were separated for their individual therapy session- Leo already gone and vanished into the isolation ward- that Donnie spoke for the first time all day.

“I’m sorry,” He said, just as Mikey had said goodbye.

Mikey paused, looking back with mild confusion. “What?”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Donnie said, not meeting Mikey’s eyes. “For what I said, yesterday. It- it was uncalled for.”

Donnie stared at the ground, waiting for Mikey to get angry at him. Maybe for some type of scolding from the other teen, for the sharp words Donnie had said.

Instead though, he heard Mikey huff softly.

“It’s nothing; I know this is a hard thing for you to do. So don’t worry, I already forgave you.”

Donnie eyes darted up, and he saw the genuine expression backing up Mikey’s words.

Mikey smiled, scratching the back of his neck. “Besides, I know me an’ Leo might look sorta like that to people, but you know… we really are just b- friends. We’re just friends. And, um, it’d be cool if you let us be friends too, us and you.”

Donnie blinked, fingers frozen in the hem of his shirt; which he’d been strangling from the stress of actually talking. Mikey was still looking at him, completely at ease and without a hint of anger.

_(-why why why why why why-)_

“How do you know me?” Donnie asked, because maybe that would be the answer. Maybe that would give clarity to why he felt anything about the other teens. “How do you know either of us? Why put up with _any_ of this??”

Mikey bit his lip, taking a turn glancing away. “I- well, you see-”

 _“Michael?”_ A nurse called from the doorway of the media room. _“It’s time.”_

“I- I gotta go,” Mikey said, leaving without an explanation to Donnie’s questions. Donnie watched him go, and didn’t get a chance even at dinner to ask again.

Mikey avoided the question, and Donnie, for the rest of the evening.

 

 

 

After that, after Donnie let the question go since Mikey wouldn’t answer it, things… things settled down.

The fourth day of Leo being one of the constant presences near Donnie was uneventful; utterly routine, and purely quiet. Donnie even managed to relax a bit, tucked into his corner of a private couch, and left to peace by the other boys sitting ten feet away by the wall.

At one point, Mikey piped up a question.

“What language were you speaking, the first day you were here?”

Donnie turned his head, looking over his shoulder at the other boy. He considered for a moment, and then deigned to answer.

“Chinese, obviously,” He replied. “I’m fluent.”

 Mikey perked up. “Do you speak Japanese?”

Donnie scowled, mood souring immediately. “Oh, so because I’m Asian, I must speak multiple Asian languages?”

“I- no! Donnie, quit it with the word twisting- it was just a question!”

“A stupid question.”

Mikey threw his hands up, and slouched back against the wall. Leo hid behind his chosen novel, trying to avoid the sudden conflict.

Donnie watched Mikey’s sullen frown for moment, and then turned away.

But, after a long pause-

“I taught myself some, when I was younger,” Donnie said, looking at his textbook, rather than the person he was addressing. “I stopped after a few weeks, but I learned… some, at least.”

“…why’d you stop?” Mikey asked.

Donnie thought back to when he was much younger, still testing out different languages for their potential as subjects. He’d been eight, and Japanese had caught his attention for some reason.

But, for another reason he couldn’t name, he’d stopped only a few weeks into learning it.

“I don’t know,” Donnie admitted. “I just… it didn’t feel right.”

Mikey didn’t push for an explanation, and Donnie was grateful for that, because he wouldn’t have been able to give one anyways.

Following days past much the same; quiet, simple, and only interrupted by questions from the other boys.

Donnie found himself adjusting to them, each day less of a drag on his nerves, and his anxiety springing up only sixty percent of the time.

For some reason- god there was so little Donnie could explain anymore- he kept answering questions.

“What sort of family do you have?” Mikey asked at one point, watching Donnie carefully.

Donnie blinked-

_(-large but old hands, supportive rarely and painful often- a creaking voice, saying over and over “Don’t be a disappointment, make yourself useful-”_

_A woman, preserved forever in a photograph and glass, unsympathetic and never warm like a mother should be-_

_Dark and aged, his home and cage and fortress- the one place he could exist, the one place hated more than anything-)_

-and he shook his head, clearing the images. “It’s just myself and my grandfather.”

“Yeah, but what’s he like?”

Donnie looked out the window of the media room, light shining in onto the table they all sat at.

“I hate him,” Donnie said simply and without further explanation; instead choosing to examine the thick cumulonimbus clouds outside.

Mikey and Leo didn’t ask about his family again.

 

 

 

They asked why he hadn’t ever gone to back school, after he’d graduated high school.

“They wouldn’t have anything to teach me,” Donnie scoffed, knowing and not caring how arrogant that sounded. “I could outpace anything they attempted to, without even trying.”

Besides, his grandfather preferred he be home.  Donnie preferred he be home. Home was easy; home was familiar and straight forwards.

_(Wrong. He was scared. Absolutely petrified at the thought of being even in the same hundred metres of that many people-)_

“You never, you know, wanted to invent stuff an’ change the world?” Mikey asked, looking put off by Donnie answer.

_(Yes.)_

“No.”

“Huh. Okay then.”

 

 

 

“Where’d you… why’d you lose your tooth?” Leo tentatively asked, a week into spending time with Donnie. “It’s one of your permanent ones, right?”

Donnie, with his mouth still closed, ran his tongue over the gap where he was missing a tooth. One of his front teeth, gone since years ago.

_(-a hard slap, a bad fall, a steel pipe- yelling and blood and excruciating pain as Donnie stared at the white pearl now lying on the concrete in front of him-)_

“Childhood accident,” Donnie replied, hiding the tremor in his voice.

“And the scar by your eye?”

_(-stinging pain, his glasses clattering to the floor and leaving a piece of themselves behind in his cheek- skin burning where he’d been slapped-)_

“Same reason,” Donnie said, still controlling the threatening waver.

“Oh. Okay. Did it hurt?”

_(-hours in the clinic, all for two stitches in his cheek- irreparable dental damage, he wouldn’t ever be able to fix it unless they paid thousands of dollars for work to be done-_

_-the worst part being not the physical pain, but the_ shame _of it all-)_

“…yes,” Donnie said quietly.

He saw Leo’s hand raise itself, then fall short of patting Donnie on the back.

Donnie wasn’t sure how to feel about that either.

 

 

 

Not all of the questions made Donnie feel like that. Some of them were just ordinary things.

_“What’s your favorite color?”_

_“I don’t have one.” (Purple.)_

_“What’s your favorite food?”_

_“I already answered that. I don’t eat.” (Grapes.)_

_“Ever gone suburban rock climbing?”_

_“That’s just scaling buildings, and fuck no.” (Fuck no.)_

…sort of ordinary things. Ordinary for Mikey, and by extension, ordinary for Leo. Apparently.

Mikey’s off-kilter personality seemed catching, drawing Leo out of his shell enough to engage in sci-fi talk. It spread to Donnie, and he reluctantly indulged them in the discussion.

It wasn’t as horrid as Donnie might have imagined. None of it was.

He still reacted with defensive words first, but the way Mikey and Leo kept brushing them off… they never reacted back at him for that, continuing on like Donnie hadn’t just insulted them or their topic of conversation.

It was confusing. He didn’t understand the tolerance any more than he did the people who tolerated him.

Slowly, he stopped waiting so attentively for the backlash from them, and tried to just let it be.

 

 

 

“Why did you end up here, Donnie?” Leo asked one afternoon, while Mikey was gone to the washroom.

Donnie looked up from his pad of paper, something he’d been allowed on good behavior. Leo fidgeted, clearly wavering on his query.

“I mean-” Leo winced away from Donnie’s gaze. “-you probably know why _I’m_ here, and Mikey won’t say why he is, so… would you, um, maybe tell me why you’re here?”

Donnie did know why Leo was here, overhearing the gossip from nurses and doctors every time Leo and Mikey passed by together. They were an odd pair, so close within only a few weeks of knowing each other. It made some of the staff concerned, having one very violent patient, and one very crafty patient so buddy-buddy.

Donnie had moved past being utterly terrified of the other teens. Now he was just constantly wary, if cautiously resigned to their existences.

Donnie swallowed tightly; thinking of just why he was in the facility, and finding himself very much not wanting to explain that why.

He couldn’t force the words out, no matter how he tried to phrase it.

“Because.”

“…touchy subject?”

Donnie didn’t answer, gripping his pant legs and digging in his nails.

“Okay. I won’t ask again. I’m sorry.”

Donnie didn’t speak again, even after Mikey returned.

 

 

 

It was simple really, why he was in the facility.

Because he’d embarrassed his grandfather. Because he hadn’t been able to control himself. Because because because-

It was the same story as every other one over the years, only so much worse.

_(Donnie was getting older, and so was his grandfather. It was time he started learning how to deal with their family business partners._

_Donnie was the only living relative his grandfather had, and there for the only one to carry things on after he passed. That and because Donnie_ could _feasibly become a better business man than even his grandfather; if only he’d get over his stupid, senseless fears._

_Donnie had already been involved with behind the scenes work for years, handling the delicate process of digital banking. Ever since Donnie had first looked at their digital banking accounts, and known exactly what to do for some inexplicable reason, his grandfather had used him as their main technician._

_Donnie wasn’t sure where or when he’d learned how to hack, rewrite, and shift computer codes like he did, but he had. And it likely was the one reason his grandfather hadn’t shipped him off to boarding school, the stroke of sheer genius in Donnie’s ten year old brain saving him from years of torturous schooling._

_In the business of highly illegal money laundering, Donnie’s skills were invaluable when covering their tracks._

_With their home a shell business, and the real work being done in the basement or online, Donnie found the whole of his life constantly amusing. Money laundering in a laundromat- oh the stupidity of it all._

_Or perhaps, the greater stupidity was Donnie’s potential as a criminal, being stunted by his overwhelming anxiety._

_He had no qualms breaking and changing bank accounts, no issues with handing out private information to individuals who had nothing good planned for it. His morality was grey at best all things considering, and he’d never had problem with that fact. He however had an enormous amount of problems actually interacting with their business partners, and up till he’d turned seventeen, he’d adamantly refused to meet any of them._

_Until his grandfather had sat him down (-cornered him-) and told Donnie that if he didn’t meet with the up and coming heir to a local crime syndicate, Donnie’s future business partner no less, then Donnie would deeply, deeply regret trying to resist._

_Donnie had had no other way to answer, other than a single nod._

_He’d downed twice the dosage of anti-anxiety pills he was prescribed, right before the meeting, and had kept himself sensory deprived all day leading up to it. Donnie had prayed it would be enough to get him through things._

_It wasn’t._

_Donnie had entered the room slowly, taking in every inch of the situation right off._

_Two men, dark non-descript clothes, clear Asian heritage. Probably each carrying one or more firearms and knives.  Between them, a much smaller and younger man; likely the son of the criminal enterprise Donnie was meant to work with one day. His grandfather, smaller than everyone in the room and yet somehow the most imposing, gestured with his eyes for Donnie to greet their guests._

_Donnie had controlled his shaking hands, and stepped further into the room. The heir noticed him, and stepped forwards as well._

_Donnie hadn’t been wearing his glasses, but as the other teenager got closer, he finally picked out all the details of him._

_Longish black hair, smart black rimmed glasses perched on his nose, a smaller stature and something close to curvy, purple streaks in his- his hair-_

_Donnie had been instantly swallowed by panic, as the other teen put out a hand to shake; smiling with grey green eyes that pierced through Donnie’s false calm._

_The next parts had been blurry, and Donnie couldn’t recall much more than a lot of yelling. Mostly from himself._

_He still didn’t know why he’d reacted like that, why that person had scared him so deeply._

_He remembered enough of his emotions though- (fear fear fear this person THIS PERSON he knew- heshethey were going to hurt him he_ knew _heshethey were going to- he needed to get rid of them now he needed to get rid of them NOW_ - _)  and he vaguely remembered grabbing the other teen by the shoulders, and shaking him violently._

_After that, being pulled off by hands he didn’t know and hearing loud voices that only made his panic worse- Donnie had run._

_He’d run from the room, using his long and thin legs to carry him to his one safe place. His grandfather’s voice followed him, but Donnie’s raging panic attack overrode the barked words from the older man._

_He’d slammed his door shut behind him, and locked it; sliding to the floor in a shaking heap and gasping for breath._

_His grandfather had banged on the door, but Donnie had refused to open it. He kept refusing for the rest of the day, and then the whole night._

_The next morning, still curled on himself in a corner, Donnie’s door was broken down._

_Men that weren’t taller than him, but so much stronger than him, hauled Donnie out of the soothing darkness of his room- right to the feet of his grandfather._

_Donnie, again, didn’t remember much of what happened next; but his stomach and cheeks had hurt a lot afterwards. Dull bruises forming over his sternum, and redness clinging to his tan skin._

_As punishment for deeply embarrassing their family, and endangering a long time business relationship, Donnie was shipped off to an asylum. He wasn’t allowed back until his grandfather said so._

_Donnie had been forced into a van, with only one of his computers to keep him quiet, and driven from New York by dangerous men he didn’t know._

_Between the incoherent fear and anxiety over taking him- Donnie had burned with hatred.)_

Now, Donnie was trapped in an achingly boring place, filled to the brim with _people_.

He just wanted to go back to his room. Not necessarily at _home_ , but back to his safe place. Alone and in the dark, with just his computer monitors to keep him company.

He didn’t want Mikey or Leo’s friendship. He didn’t.

He just wanted to be alone, and stay alone.

After all, if he was alone, then nothing could ever hurt him.

 

 

 

Donnie wishes for solitude didn’t stop Mikey or Leo. They kept coming back, and kept sitting close but not too close.

Donnie didn’t actively resist anymore, fully resigned to having them seek him out every single day of his miserable stay. They still talked to him, and if he was in a good enough mood, Donnie would talk back.

Donnie wondered if Mikey and Leo considered them friends yet. Donnie didn’t know if he considered them as such. He had no point of reference, no way to tell where the line of _‘reluctant acquaintanceship’_ ended and _‘actual friendship’_ began.

He didn’t want friends. He didn’t want anyone at all.

Donnie felt he might be giving the other teens the wrong signals, even with all his snapping at them.

Eventually, they had to get tired and leave. Eventually, they’d leave him alone again.

Donnie just wanted to feel safe, and the only way back to that was to be alone.

He tolerated the other two teens for another week, mostly ignoring them, occasionally being coerced into speaking with them. Donnie kept them at arm’s length, and then some. He didn’t want to get close, or even familiar with them.

Somehow, they still convinced him to go outside.

Donnie stood in the relatively large sized courtyard, squinting at the first direct sunlight he’s had in probably a month.

He scowled deeply, glaring at the offensive blue sky.

 _“ <God I hate being outdoors>,”_ Donnie muttered to himself.

“I dunno what you just said, but we’ll be back in just a couple secs,” Mikey said, already leaving with Leo. “I forgot my book in my room, again, sorry about that, but I promise we’ll be speedy! Don’t go back inside. I’m watching you.”

 _“ <Take your time, and get lost if you can>,”_ Donnie said, knowing full well Mikey didn’t understand a word of what he was saying. Donnie watched them hurry back into the facility, and rolled his eyes at Mikey’s cheerful wave goodbye.

Now he was alone, waiting with his selected reading material for the day, until the other two came back.

Donnie waited exactly three seconds before turning towards the doors, and starting back inside. If they weren’t going to be here, then he was going to go back in. Less pollen and air pollutants to breathe in within the building, though the level of dust mites and airborne diseases increased significantly.

As he walked towards the doors though, someone appeared in his path.

Donnie did a rapid once over- _aging, an older man headed for his seventies, a leg injury at some point causing a slight gimp, a glassy look to his eyes just like every other person here-_ and rerouted his direction to avoid the other patient. He didn’t want to even breathe the same air as the older man.

Unfortunately, the older man stepped again into Donnie’s path.

Donnie stopped, metaphorical hackles rising, and his anxiety already starting to buzz like a hornet’s nest.

The older man was staring at him, bright and glassy eyes boring into Donnie.

Donnie swallowed thickly.

 _“James!”_ The older patient suddenly exclaimed angrily, making Donnie jump. The other patient stormed towards him, and Donnie’s legs wouldn’t cooperate as the man approached.

The older man’s hands closed onto Donnie’s shoulders before he could break away, and a drowning tide of fear filled Donnie’s lungs.

“You- you stupid boy! Do you know how long your mother and I were looking for you?! Gone without notice, leaving us and your poor sister- how could you?! _How could you!”_

“I- please I-I’m not-”

“ _NO EXCUSES!”_ The unfamiliar man yelled, tightening his grip on Donnie’s shoulder. _“Why I oughtta-_ running off with your pointless dreams, without a lick of sense in that brain of yours-!”

Donnie struggled weakly. “Please- I’m sorry- I’m not-”

“And always talking back! You never listened to me or your mother, constantly disobeying, constantly disappointing-”

_(“-a disappointment to me, a disappointment to your mother-!”)_

“-how dare you do that! After we put a roof over your head, clothes on your back-”

 _(“-I care for you, keep you warm and fed, and what do I get? Disobedience! Laziness! Acting like a misbehaving_ child _-!”)_

Donnie couldn’t force air into his lungs, and couldn’t break out of the strangling grip of the other patient. The edges of Donnie’s vision closed around the man, his voice filling up the air around them and leaving no room to think.

Donnie couldn’t move, couldn’t break away, couldn’t resist against the irate and furious man in front of him-

 “I-I’m sorry- I didn’t- I won’t-” Donnie stuttered, throat tight and uncooperative. “I’m _sorry-”_

_(-shut up shut up shut up shut up don’t talk it makes it worse just makes it WORSE-)_

Then-

The hands holding him vanished, and a rush of air filled Donnie’s empty lungs.

_“Whoa! Carl, what’re you doing, bothering my bro like that?”_

_“Wha- oh it’s you again. Michael, it’s my son! James! I’ve been looking everywhere for him-”_

_“Nah, I’m pretty sure that’s not your son. You tried the cafeteria though? I think I saw him hanging out with your daughter there.”_

_“Margret? Margret’s here too? Well why didn’t you say so! Lead the way, boy.”_

_“Mm, no thanks. I think you can find your own way. Remember its left not right, and then a right not a left.”_

_“Hm? Oh yes, right then left, left then right…”_

Donnie blinked rapidly, clearing the tunnel vision he’d had. The older man was ambling away, disappearing back into the building, and… Mikey and Leo were there again.

Donnie’s momentary shock lifted, and his panic attack slammed back into him.

He put a hand on his chest, feeling the nonexistent hole opening up there and sucking him in.

_“Oh jeeze, Donnie, you doing alright?”_

Everything sounded far away- like the water in Donnie’s lungs had spread to the rest of the world- choking out sounds and turning them into dull throbs.

Donnie wheezed, and tried to not curl up on the ground right there and then.

He- he couldn’t do that here, it wasn’t appropriate- he was in public, and he wasn’t- wasn’t supposed to do this sort of thing in front of others. It wasn’t okay; he wasn’t allowed to do this, not around other people- not where someone could see him breaking-

_“Shh, hey, chill. I’m right here. C’mon, I’m not touching you, you’re okay. Just follow me, alright? Right over here, we’re just gonna move over where the nurses aren’t gonna see you. That’s what you want, right? Privacy?”_

“Leave me alone, p-please,” Donnie said hoarsely, shying away from the hands reaching for him. “I’m- _I’m sorry_ , just- please _, please leave me alone-_ ”

_“I’m not doing anything, I’m just talking. We’re just talking. So follow me, okay? It’s a couple steps this way-”_

“ _Don’t touch me!”_ Donnie hissed, backing away from the hands again.

_“-I’m not. I promise I’m not. Just- just trust me, okay? We’re gonna go sit down over here, and I’m not going to touch you at all. Okay? Nod for ‘okay’.”_

Donnie’s vision was tunneling again, but he tried to focus on taking steps forwards. He jerked a short nod.

_“That’s good. Just a little further, then you can sit down. Deep breaths, deeeeep breaths. We’re all good, just keep breathing. In and out, in and out…”_

Donnie’s legs buckled, and his back hit something solid. Its rough texture dragged on his shirt as he slid down, but he was beyond caring. Everything in his mind had turned into static- raw and angry and no clear thoughts able to emerge.

He tried to focus on breathing, staring blankly ahead without really seeing.

_“In… and out, in… and out…”_

Donnie somehow managed to curl around himself, and put his head down.

Everything was too bright, too unfamiliar. He wanted to be back in his room, back in his safe place. Far, far away from everything around him. He wanted his computer, he wanted his music, he- he wanted-

_“That’s good. Just keep doing that. You’re doing really well, Donnie. I got you, alright? We both do.”_

Donnie’s hands gripped his arms, digging in his blunt nails and breathing heavy and hard. He- he was hyperventilating. He was still panicking. He needed to stop that.

_“Easy, easy, you’re still safe. Just chill out for a bit, and then you’ll be okay. I’m not going anywhere.”_

Shameful tears collected in Donnie’s eyes, and he bit his lip as they trickled onto his pant legs. Again and again and again, he couldn’t ever control himself, why couldn’t he ever control himself? Breaking down over and over in public, acting like a child and crying over _nothing-_

_“Shhh, just keep breathing. Don’t think, just breathe. Shhh…”_

Donnie’s vision swam, watery and blurred, and he shut his eyes.

He kept trying to breathe, and it slowly got easier.

_“Shhh… I got you, bro. We’re right here. I’m right here.”_

Donnie’s head cleared steadily, and he rode out the waves of anxiety until they died down. He cautiously opened his eyes, after a long, blurry amount of time- and found himself able to breathe again.

He didn’t feel like he was drowning anymore. He didn’t feel like something hot and strangling was around his throat. He could think again.

Donnie slowly raised his head of his knees.

Mikey was kneeling a few feet in front of him, and he smiled at Donnie.

“There you are,” Mikey said, voice soft and gentle still. “How’re you feeling now?”

Donnie blinked sluggishly, eyelids heavy with crusted tears. He couldn’t answer.

He instead looked to his side, and found Leo standing with his back to them. He was blocking the view to Donnie from the doors inside, keeping any passing eyes from seeing them, or the nurses figuring out that Donnie was having an attack.

Leo glanced over his shoulder at Donnie, and smiled the same way he always did; cautious and unsure, but hopeful anyways.

Donnie blinked again.

What…? Why would they do this?

“Hey, Donnie?”

Donnie turned back to Mikey, who was still smiling at him.

“For real, you doing okay now?” Mikey asked.

Donnie’s mouth felt dry, and his cheeks were starting to itch with his tear tracks. His head felt cloudy still, and a bit like someone had put it on spin cycle.

It was, however, a lot better than he’d felt just a little while ago.

“…I’m fine,” Donnie whispered, unable to make his voice go any louder.

Mikey nodded, and seemed to relax out of a tenseness Donnie hadn’t noticed before. “That’s good. Glad to hear.”

He held something out to Donnie, across the small gap between them both.

Donnie looked at the object in Mikey’s hand, and slowly figured out it was his novel. When had he dropped it?

Mikey was still smiling. He was always smiling.

Donnie cautiously reached out, and took his book back.

He stared at it, unassuming and normal, sitting in his lap. The cover, dark blue and with the words _‘Forbidden City’_ written across it, stared back at him.

Donnie blinked again, and realized at some point, Leo had sat down, and now he and Mikey were reading. Like Donnie hadn’t just completely broken down, like he hadn’t just embarrassed all three of them by being incapable of social grace, or functioning like a normal human being.

They weren’t looking at him. They weren’t asking why he’d suddenly had an attack.

Neither of them had touched him. They hadn’t hurt him.

Donnie raised a hand, and rubbed away the itchy dried tears on his skin. He felt raw and exhausted, every bit of his earlier energy taken by the panic attack.

Mikey and Leo were still acting like the attack hadn’t happened, busy with their novels.

Donnie slowly, cautiously, tentatively, relaxed against the tree he’d managed to sit down in front of.

A gentle breeze blew through the courtyard, blowing Donnie’s dark bangs across his face. The tree leaves above him blocked out the sky’s entirety, and kept the light off his skin and out of his eyes.

Two people were still sitting close to him, and he wasn’t freaking out.

He… he felt okay.

Donnie felt okay.

He let out a long breath, and closed his eyes; leaning his skull against the rough bark of the tree. Mikey and Leo still didn’t try to engage in a conversation, and didn’t try to touch him at all.

This was okay. He was okay.

Donnie felt shaky and vulnerable for a while afterwards, but neither of the other teens confronted him about it. He was allowed to stay quiet the rest of their free time, and allowed to leave without saying goodbye.

 

 

 

 

The next day, for the first time, Donnie approached the other teens without prompting.

Mikey and Leo, they were sitting on their claimed couch in the media room, and for once, Donnie sat in front of that couch, and not by the wall ten feet away.

They greeted him with smiles, warm and friendly, and Donnie…

It was unfamiliar, but... he managed one of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been working on this for days now, interrupted frequently by hell shifts at work, and i can no longer tell how good it is. please tell me if you enjoyed it, i'm sorry for the delay, but i did my best here.
> 
> god i have such a headache. i'm going to go shower for at least forty-five minutes and then die for a bit.
> 
> please tell me how this went. i have no way to gauge.


	7. Chapter 5.5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An interlude.

_“-so I'm moving to New York, 'cause I've got problems with my sleep, and we're not the same and I will wear that on my sleeve-”_

“Why do you sing in the shower? Why do you in _sist_ on singing in the shower?”

“Because it’s more fun that way,” Mikey replied, shoving his head back under the spray. His curls got heavy; filling with water as he washed away the cheap shampoo he’d been given.

“It’s annoying,” Donnie grumbled a stall over from Mikey.

“You think everything’s annoying,” Mikey said, grinning despite the soap getting into his mouth.

“Everything _is_ annoying.”

“Says you.”

“Yes, says me.”

Mikey chuckled, and scrubbed another minute at his hair. Soon as he felt satisfied that all the soap was gone, he backed out of the spray to wipe at his eyes.

They were the only two left in the shower block, him and Donnie. Mikey didn’t care when he showered, but Donnie preferred to be as close to alone as he could be, which meant waiting until everyone else cleared out.

Leo had showered earlier, hours before Mikey and Donnie. He had an extended therapy session to attend, so he hadn’t been able to linger on any activities today.

Mikey always felt upset, watching Leo go off with the nurses. Leo didn’t need that; they didn’t know how to help him. They were just making it worse, reinforcing the stupid notion in Leo’s head that he needed to be in the facility.

Mikey had settled for hanging around Donnie, since causing a huge fuss about Leo wouldn’t help any of them.

Reaching for the tiny bottle of conditioner, Mikey got the urge to keep singing. Doing one thing at a time got so boring, especially when it was mundane things.

“Can I keep going?” Mikey asked, squishing a handful of conditioner into his palm. “Or do you want me to stop?”

There was a long pause, only the sound of their individual showers filling the air. Then-

“… no, go ahead. It’s fine.”

Mikey grinned, and started conditioning his hair. “Thought you didn’t like my singing, Donnie.”

“I never said that,” Donnie replied.

“You called it _annoying_ though.”

“Yes.”

“Soundin’ a little contradictory there.”

“I can find something annoying, and… _tolerate_ it too. If I really feel like it.”

Mikey cackled, probably louder than he should have, but the humor bubbled up in him regardless.

He’d missed this. He’d missed it a lot.

He scrubbed a bit harder at his hair, trying to get the conditioner right to his scalp through all his curls. Donnie had gone quiet again, so Mikey took that as a sign to start singing again.

_“I've just had the craziest week, like a party bag of lies, booze and then deceit-”_

He shoved his head under the spray, getting soap and water in his mouth as he kept going.

_“-and I don't know why I want to voice this out loud, it's therapeutic somehow. So I’m movin’ to New York, 'cause I've got problems with my sleep-”_

He looped a few more times through the song, and finished washing out his hair. A polite knock on his stall door halted his singing.

“Michael?”

Oh yeah, there was an attendant keeping an eye on them still.

Mikey spat out some soapy tasting water. “Yup, that’s me. I guess.”

“Are you two still doing alright? You’ve been in here a while now,” The nameless male nurse said through the doors.

“Mm, we’re fine. Just takin’ our time. We only get to do this once every few days, you know.”

“You too, Donghai?” Asked the male nurse, knocking on Donnie’s stall beside Mikey’s.

“Mgh.”

“Donghai?”

“ ‘m fine. Go away.”

“Al… right. You have ten more minutes, both of you. Then we’ll have to ask you to get out.”

“Noted and noted,” Mikey replied cheerfully, though he felt annoyed at the interruption. He might not have gotten long showers at the foster center, but at least no one straight up policed you.

Public pools were good for long showers. You could stay in there all day, so long as you’d paid the entrance fee. Mikey missed public pools. He missed being active.

Mikey heard the footsteps retreating from the shower block, and he decided to finish up with washing. Might as well hurry up with that, and take the last ten minutes to just sit and relax.

Mikey noticed, after he’d sat down under the hot spray and was letting it warm his back, that Donnie was being weirdly quiet. He usually was, but this felt different.

Rapping his knuckles on the metal wall separating their stalls, Mikey asked, “Hey Donnie? You okay in there?”

There was a soft wheeze in response.

Mikey frowned, and bent over to look through the two inch gap between the wall and the floor.

He saw feet, and thigh, and all of it tangled together near the tiled wall.

Mikey sighed, and leaned back against his own side of the wall. “Got stuck?”

Another wheeze, this time with muttered Chinese.

Mikey lifted his head from the wall, then let it fall back again with a thud. “Was it ‘cause of my singing? You should’a said something if it was.”

“…no,” Donnie whispered.

Mikey’s lips formed a thin line, and he brushed away a curl plastered to his forehead. “How come then?”

“Mmmgh… ‘s too much.”

“What is?”

“ _Everything,”_ Donnie said empathetically.

“…oh,” Mikey looked up at the bright lights of the shower block, and remembered that Donnie had said he hated fluorescents. And then the nurse had come in too, and they’d all had a rather busy morning, a new patient reacting badly to being disallowed outside the ward… it’d gotten hectic and loud and Donnie had tried to hide behind Mikey and Leo both during the whole thing.

_Too much._

Yeah, understandable.

“That sucks,” Mikey said, trying to find something better and failing.

A hoarse laugh came from Donnie’s side of the wall, and Mikey smiled grimly.

“The shower helping at all? Helps me sometimes.”

“…yes.”

“Think you’ll be ready in ten minutes to leave?”

Another wheeze, and Mikey guessed that was probably the big trigger here.

“If we ask really nicely, maybe he’ll let us stay a little longer,” Mikey suggested.

“I’d… I’d like that. Please.”

“Cool. I’ll ask when he gets back. You just keep chilling out in there, sound good?”

“…yes, thank you.”

Donnie sounded so small without his cruel bravado. He sounded downright exhausted, and very close to frail.

Mikey leaned against the cool metal wall between them, and wondered when he’d be allowed to hug his brother. He wanted to, really badly.

Someday. He’d get to someday. He just needed to be patient. He’d been patient this long, he could be patient a while more.

Leo let him close more often now, but he rarely reciprocated the gestures of affection. Especially after his appointments, coming back hunched and tired looking. Afraid again to touch anyone…

And Donnie… Donnie never let anyone near him hardly at all…

“You’re singing again,” Donnie said quietly.

Mikey blinked, and realized he’d been mumbling under his breath. “Ah, sorry. Didn’t notice I was. I’ll be quiet now.”

“No it’s… it’s fine. You can… you can keep going. Please.”

“You sure?” Mikey asked in surprise.

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

Mikey nodded, though he knew Donnie wouldn’t see. Mentally, he flipped through different songs he’d known Donnie to enjoy. Ones he’d left playing on repeat in the lab, especially when things got overwhelming…

It’d been a long time since he’d heard those songs, but… Mikey’s memory wasn’t completely useless, at least when it came to his brothers.

 _“There's no sunshine… this impossible year…”_ Mikey started softly, trying to remember all the right word. _“Only black days and sky grey, and clouds full of fear, and storms full of sorrow that won't disappear… just typhoons and monsoons… this impossible year…”_

Not the happiest song by his book, but Donnie had always liked it, ever since its release.

Mikey forgot if it existed in this world. Maybe it didn’t.

He kept singing anyways.

_“There's no good times… this impossible year, just a beachfront of bad blood, and a coast that's unclear… all the guests at the party, they're so insincere, they just intrude and exclude… this impossible year…”_

With the shushing of their showers, and the echoing walls of the room, Mikey thought he didn’t sound half bad. Donnie didn’t complain either, so he took that as a good sign.

They didn’t talk again until the nurse came back, and Mikey broke off long enough to ask for another few minutes. They got the extra few minutes, though a warning to be out soon as it was up. Mikey felt like that made a huge difference to Donnie, from the way he sighed with relief afterwards; the action loud enough to be heard over their showers.

Donnie seemed okay afterwards; toweling his choppy black hair in the locker room and acting like he’d never gotten stuck in the shower at all.

Mikey resisted the urge to pat him on that back, or give him one huge hug for the next five hours. One of the other. He wanted to maybe do both.

Donnie mumbled _“Thanks”_ as they left the locker room, barely audible above the noise of the ward’s staff bustling around them.

Mikey smiled warmly, and though he couldn’t reach out to touch Donnie, he hoped his brother got his sentiments anyways.

 

 

 

Usually, Donnie couldn’t stand people singing.

Usually, he couldn’t stand someone trying to talk to him when he was panicking.

Usually, when he got stuck in the shower, bent around his knees and unable to breathe- he couldn’t be moved for heaven or hell.

A knock on the wall, and a steady familiar voice, was apparently enough to move past those usual’s.

Donnie had listened, and breathed, and let Mikey’s voice fill up the yawning air around them.

He thought the song Mikey had been singing was something he’d heard before. From somewhere during his endless searches through the internet for new music.

He wondered if Mikey had known it would be the right one to calm him down.

He couldn’t possibly have, but with Mikey, it seemed anything could happen.

It was… it was welcome, and warm, to listen to.

It felt familiar, and not just because of the words. Because Mikey was the one singing.

Donnie had closed his eyes, and tried to remember why.

Mostly, he got a fuzzy haze. Blurry beyond recognizing, and too faded to recollect properly.

It was however, accompanied by a wave of nostalgia. Something old and very dear.

Donnie couldn’t tell why that was, it simply _was._

He couldn't fathom why, and in that moment, hadn't cared much. He could care later, when he could breathe and think again.

Donnie had let the sound and feeling of the water fill up his shrieking senses, and tried to listen to Mikey's voice.

Instead of breaking down, and breaking inwards, Donnie had breathed in and out as Mikey sang, until he could stand once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next Real Chapter is almost done. I just have to wrap it up and then publish it. (oh writing why do you fight me...)
> 
> I wanted to fit this into the next one honestly, but it just wouldn't mesh right. So, since I loved it so much, I gave the scene a mini chapter to itself. Hope you all enjoyed, and thanks again for being so patient.


	8. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Did say I was almost done, so here it is! I just got really stuck midway, and then with the last few scenes. Tricky tricky tricky it was to write... totes worth it though.
> 
> I listened to The Girl Is Mine by 99 Souls on repeat while writing most of this. IDK why, the song makes me think intensely of shinirai, not this. Good song though, and the video was superb. You all should try it out.

Mikey leaned on his palm, watching Donnie read across the table from him.

“You’re staring,” Donnie muttered, turning the page of his novel.

“I know,” Mikey replied with a small smile.

Donnie’s red eyes darted up from his book, and the ceiling lights reflected off his glasses as he frowned. “I hate it when people stare at me. Stop it.”

“Hmm, alright,” Mikey conceded easily, turning his head towards the media room window. From the corner of his eye, he watched as his brother blinked, shook his head, and went back to his book.

Mikey wanted to turn back again, and keep looking, but he was worried that would spook Donnie off. Even with a solid few weeks of hanging around him, Donnie’s skittish brother still acted like a feral cat. All claws and hissing, if someone so much as glanced at him wrong.

Something had happened to Donnie. Maybe a lot of somethings. None of those somethings were probably good things.

It made Mikey itchy with anger, enough that he sometimes had to just… _breathe,_ for a few minutes, before he could smile again.

Donnie seemed even more broken than Leo, and Mikey hadn’t thought that could be topped. He hadn’t wanted it to be.

If Mikey ever found the people… no, the _person_ who’d done this to his brother…

_(Donnie hadn’t said it out loud, hadn’t explained things quite plainly, but Mikey knew. Mikey could tell.)_

Donnie’s grandpa was a lucky man, since Mikey didn’t know where he was, and would be locked up for a good while yet. Lucky lucky lucky…

A lot of people were lucky Mikey didn’t know where they were.

Mikey tapped irritably against his knee with his left hand, and bit the inside of his cheek.  The motions and gentle pain didn’t do much to alleviate the buzzing the back of his head.

He was so happy to have two of his brothers’ back, to actually be sitting right across from Donnie again, just like they’d used to, but…

It felt bittersweet.

 

 

 

Donnie always looked tired. He always looked a little too ready to bolt, and too wary of everything around him.

He still wouldn’t let Mikey near him.

He wouldn’t let anyone near him.

Mikey wondered often, had he ever encountered Donnie back in New York, years and years before this happened to them all, could he have stopped Donnie from becoming like this?

Mikey wished he hadn’t gotten perma-grounded by his foster center. Maybe he would have had a better chance of finding his brother.

New York was huge, and the odds would’ve been some insane number that Donnie could roll out like nothing, but… Mikey wished he’d at least been able to try.

Maybe they could have run away together. Mikey had no trouble interacting with people, usually, and Donnie could’ve navigated all their money troubles easily. They could’ve gotten jobs, found a place to stay, tried to carve out a life on their own…

But then, Mikey wouldn’t have found Leo. If he’d gone to Donnie, and taken him away, then none of them would have met in the facility. Mikey would have had one brother, only one, and Leo would’ve been left alone.

And who knew where Raph was. Mikey was hoping that their luck would hold, and he’d show up soon. There was supposed to be four of them, and they were three parts of the way there. If staying in the facility meant Raph would come back to them, that they’d all finally be together again…

It was a bad thought to have, and Mikey felt awful for thinking it, but maybe… maybe it had been best things had played out how they did. It still hurt so, so badly to see Donnie act the way he did; cold and distant, angry whenever he wasn’t scared…

But it was probably the only way they all could’ve met up; the only way Mikey could’ve found both Donnie _and_ Leo, and started pulling his family back together. The only way they’d probably find Raph, too.

He’d just have to help Donnie fix himself then, like Mikey was helping Leo. To make up for not being there before.

Mikey would watch Leo and Donnie interact sometimes, which got easier for them every time, and knew he usually got a dumb grin when he did. Even if they were both scared, and broken, and very different from the brothers he’d used to know… it was still better than them all being alone.

It was better than Mikey being alone.

 

 

 

Not long after the three of them- Donnie, Leo, and Mikey himself- finally _really_ started hanging out together without tension, Mikey stumbled onto a moment he’d probably never forget.

On a hunch, just as he was about to round the corner back into the hallway, he paused. Peeking stealthily around the doorframe, he glanced at his two brothers standing close to each other in the near silent hall.

He’d only been gone a couple minutes, a quick jog into the bathroom and back, but it looked like something had happened in that short span of time.

Donnie was fidgeting, shoulders hunched as he avoided Leo’s eyes. Leo was fidgeting too, and as always, trying to be smaller than he was.

 _What a pair of messes_ , Mikey thought to himself, grimacing slightly.

They were talking, and from the looks of things… it was an apology.

Mikey listened closely, thankful for the lull in noise level from the other building occupants.

“-I still shouldn’t have said it,” Donnie mumbled, fingers tightly wrapped in the edges of his shirt. “I- I was looking to… to get rid of you both, and I saw my chance. I just- I shouldn’t have- it was uncalled for. Simple as that.”

“It’s, um, alright,” Leo said quietly, darting glances at Donnie. “It’s… it’s not like it isn’t true. I- I know… I know what other people, um, think of me. And it’s… they’re right about me being… _dangerous_. You were right to… to call me on it.”

“All of my limited social experience says otherwise,” Donnie said, and Mikey could hear the tight anxiety in his words. “I’m… I’m sorry for that. All of that. I never have c-control of myself when I get like that, and… I always regret it. This time especially.”

“It’s okay to be… scared. Of me. I’m… I’m used to it.”

“Leo, I’m scared of everyone. It’s not you, it’s me. For better lack of term.”

A beat of silence, then Leo let out a soft huff of laughter.

“You’re a lot nicer than I thought you were, Donnie.”

“I’m really, really not, Leo. You’re giving me too much credit here.”

“You apologized. That’s a lot more than what… pretty much everyone else I ever met gave me.”

“I feel like your low standards are helping my case here.”

Mikey smiled, listening to his brothers laugh together for the first time in a lifetime.

He felt his eyes get hot, and a few tears drip out of the corners. Mikey grinned wider, and sniffled quietly as he wiped them away.

He went back into the washroom, and splashed some cold water onto his face. Making sure all trace of his crying was gone, and ensuring there wouldn’t be any questions.

His brothers were still talking quietly, easy tones and soft voices, when Mikey got back.

 

 

 

Mikey tested Donnie on and off, like he had with Leo, to see if there were any past memories hiding in his mind.

Turned out, there was actually something there.

Mikey had been talking with Donnie, the two of them shooting back and forth with whip like words. Donnie, as it turned out, was a lot more coherent and easy to be with when you gave him something to focus on. Even if his attitude remained holier-than-thou most of the time and prickly in general, Mikey easily adjusted to that.

After all, it was just Donnie trying to keep his cool. Mikey could let it slide.

Donnie loved chess, same as he had last time. He still loved playing it, and still loved beating the pants off anyone he went against. Leo lost almost immediately every time he tried.

Mikey put up a bit of a better fight, but that was mostly owed to his past knowledge.

After all, with Hamato house rules, everything goes.

As they were talking- more debating really, about the potential success rate of living on mars- Mikey deliberately tried the same move he’d tried on Leo. He queened his knight, and waited to see if their resident chess genius would notice.

Donnie kept talking, gesturing with his free hand as he spoke intently about bio-domes, and he moved his own piece to block Mikey’s queen knight. Usually, queen knights overruled nearly all pieces, but by advancing his rook to tamer status, Donnie beat him.

Mikey slowly grinned, maybe a bit too widely, and didn’t say anything. He was scared he might stop whatever was happening.

He moved his formerly queened knight off the board, and shifted a pair of pawns into double-team mode against a bishop.

Donnie moved his bishop three steps over, using its teleportation switch, and sacrificed a pawn to the double team attack.

They kept moving their pieces back and forth, losing and gaining plastic soldiers as they battled. It moved just as fast as it had the last time they played; lightening quick and filled the complexity that only ex _tremely_ bored preteens could generate.

They’d invented this together. Him and Donnie. Because Leo and Raph were too slow or too boring to keep up with their games. Because Donnie’s mind always moved thirteen steps ahead and Mikey’s went sideways leftways and upside down all at once. Because they’d been sick to death of all their other games, trapped in their sewer home and with nothing to do.

They’d brought their brothers in on it later, but even then, Mikey still had the most fun playing with Donnie.

The fun came to an end, when Donnie moved his thrice upgraded king into position to kill Mikey’s only once upgraded king, and thus conquered Mikey’s half of the board.

“-and besides, we’re still light years away from space travel, since the scientists at Nasa are blind _idiots_ and-” Donnie broke off, blinking at the haphazard arrangement that their game had become. “Um. What was I doing just now?”

“Beating me at chess, again,” Mikey said, repressing a sigh and burying his familiar twinge of hurt. He swept the pieces off the board, back into their box. “Play me a few more times? Leo won’t be back from therapy for another forty.”

“I- yes. Alright.” Donnie replied, blinking away a haze that had appeared in his eyes.

Mikey helped place all the pieces back onto the board, and waited for Donnie to make the first move.

Donnie did, but it was an ordinary chess move.

Mikey sighed once, and pushed his first pawn across the board.

 

 

 

Mikey had accepted it. He was the only one who remembered who they used to be. Whenever Raph showed up, he probably wouldn’t remember either. Mikey was… he was still alone, in that sense. Probably always would be.

Donnie sometimes had moments though. Moments when he’d do or say something eerily like his past self. Often times it was when Mikey was also doing something like that.

A key phrase, an old topic, games they’d played… hints of Donnie’s old self were there, but only when he wasn’t thinking consciously. The moment he snapped back to full awareness, there went his subconscious actions.

It was, in a word, _frustrating_.

Mikey might’ve teared up. Just a little. Maybe a lot. Only private.

 Mikey tried hard to focus just on his brothers, on having them with him again, but sometimes… an ache would creep in, and make it hard to smile.

He was with two of the most important people in both his lives, near constantly, but he felt lonely still.

He couldn’t share much of his real self with his brothers, not without giving away the game. Mikey couldn’t express how much he hated still getting nightmares, or how much he missed their old home, or how much he’d missed his family his whole stupid human life-

He could tell them a lot of things, but he couldn’t tell them that. They weren’t ready.

Or maybe it was him who wasn’t ready.

Mikey wasn’t sure anymore.

At least he’d gotten Donnie to hear his real name again, and accept it, even if it’d meant giving up part of his secrets.

 

 

 

With luck, and maybe a bit of fate, Mikey uncovered a book about the renaissance art movement, and the geniuses that had made it big during that time.

He’d been stuck for a bit, standing in front of the bookshelf like that. Tracing his fingers along the spine of the large book, and looking at the table of contents inside.

He heard Leo’s barely audible beckoning, and slowly came back to the present.

Mikey had blinked away the cloud that had settled in his head, and brought the book back with him.

It was impulsive, it was reckless, and it could have backfired so badly, but-

He opened it to the page he needed, and slid it onto the table in front of Donnie.

There’d been a moment where Mikey thought Donnie was going to push it away, but then he’d paused. Donnie had stared at the wide book Mikey had put in front of him, reading the words written on the pages.

It was the chapter about Donatello, Donnie’s original namesake.

“You know this guy, right?” Mikey said, slowly slipping back into his seat. “He’s Donatello.”

“I… well, who hasn’t heard of him?” Donnie said, sounding somewhat distant as he picked up the book to look closer. “He’s famous for a number of reasons. It’s hard to study renaissance art and not learn about him at least in passing.”

Mikey hummed. “Well yeah, but how do _you_ know him?”

“I… I don’t know,” Donnie mumbled, turning the page of the book. He glanced up, and Mikey could see a haze in his red eyes. “Why did you bring me this?”

“Thought you’d wanna read it,” Mikey said half truthfully.

“No, you… you always do things for a reason,” Donnie muttered, brow furrowing.

Mikey barked a laugh. Him, with reason? Maybe. “If you say so, Dee.”

“Mikey?” Leo asked, suddenly coming back from his midday drug haze. “What’s going on?”

“It’s just a thing, Leo. Don’t worry about it,” Mikey said calmly, watching as Donnie read a bit more of the book.

Donnie moistened his lips, and turned the page with a bit more force this time. “Are you going to tell me your reason?”

“Dunno, can’t you figure it out yourself? You’re the genius here, _Donatello.”_

Mikey could pin point the exact moment the name registered in Donnie’s head, and the exact moment his big brain shorted out.

Well, it might not have been the most subtle way to get things done, but Donnie was stubborn and always wrapped up in his head. He wouldn’t have gotten a clue unless Mikey took a direct approach.

Leo had been easy. Leo had already been hanging onto his real name in secret. Donnie on the other hand, he’d kept himself secluded for so long that he’d probably never encountered his name in real life.

Mikey waited patiently, watching as Donnie’s eyes started skittering around and the gears of his head made almost audible noise. It was a long drawn out minute of silence- during which Leo started looking really uncomfortable- until Donnie spoke again.

“Why renaissance painters?” Donnie asked quietly. He looked up at Mikey again, a sharp question in his eyes. “Why them?”

Mikey shrugged. “ _’just the way it is’, ‘because reasons’, ‘who knows’?_ Take your pick here.”

A bit of a lie.

“You’re lying,” Donnie said.

Mikey shrugged. He wouldn’t actually say it, but Donnie obviously knew.

“You lie about a lot of things,” Donnie continued.

Mikey shrugged again. “Not saying something because no one asks isn’t lying.”

“We _have_ asked though,” Donnie said, narrowing his eyes. “We’ve asked _multiple times,_ how exactly you know us. You keep avoiding the question, and deflecting us every time we push for an answer. _Why do you do that?”_ Donnie’s hands were gripping the book tightly, and Mikey saw a slight tremor begin in them. Donnie’s voice dropped lower, soft and anxious. “I don’t understand. I _hate_ not understanding. Mikey… who are you?”

_Your brother._

Mikey, still trying to fake being comfortably slouched, stared back at Donnie. He felt Leo’s eyes on him too, could practically hear the unvoiced questions his shy brother also had.

A series of emotions flickered through Mikey, changing faster than a blink of an eye.

Was he ready for this? He was the one who’d started it, brought all the questions back to the surface.

No going back now though, not without risking all the trust he’d built with his brothers.

“I can tell you some of it,” Mikey said finally, keeping his voice calm.

Donnie snapped the book shut, and tossed it on the table. He pushed his glasses up, rubbing at his eye sockets. “And how much exactly, is there to tell us?”

“A lot,” Mikey said, a wry smile finding its way onto his face.

“Of course there is,” Donnie muttered darkly.

“Um, Mikey?”

Mikey glanced over at Leo, who was looking very aware and very awake. Cautiously looking at Donnie, then the book, then Mikey again- Leo spoke.

“How did you know us?” Leo asked. “How did you… um, know about me wanting to be called ‘Leonardo’? Or Donnie and… oh, uh, do you want to be called ‘Donatello’, Donnie?”

Donnie blew out a harsh breath, still hiding in his hands. “I don’t fucking know. I don’t know anything right now. Mikey, answer Leo’s question.”

Mikey ran a hand through his hair, tugging on his tight curls and undoing them. “Uh… yeah. Okay. So, I’m gonna need you both to bear with me here, because… it’s kind of a weird reason.”

“I, um, don’t think things can get much weirder, Mikey,” Leo said, a nervous smile accompanying his words.

“Rènhé mòshēng rén, wǒ huì jiān jiào,” Donnie mumbled into his palms.

Mikey didn’t understand a word of that, but he let it go. He sighed, releasing his grip on his curls. “Alright, I’ll tell you. So long story short… those _used_ to be your names. You just… don’t remember anymore.”

Leo blinked, and Donnie peeked out from behind his hands.

“And we all used to know each other… used to spend pretty much every day together… and basically were never apart until now? Or- _shit I’m not explaining this well-_ we just- we were really close. Really really close, and then… I don’t know, something happened and we all got separated,” Mikey rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the stares from his brothers. “Um, that’s the bare bones of it, I guess.”

Leo opened his mouth, and then closed it. He seemed lost.

Donnie slowly dropped his hands, narrowing his eyes at Mikey. “That sounds like the plot to a cheap thriller movie. And not even a good one.”

Mikey’s lips twitched into a grin, mostly without him meaning to. “Well, you asked for the truth. You got the truth.”

Donnie eyed Mikey suspiciously, and if he’d had hackles, they probably would have been raised. “How am I supposed to trust that? It sounds impossible, insane, and just to add to that, we’re in a mental institution. You’ve been medically declared unsound, just like the rest of us. How are we supposed to believe this- this- this _craziness?”_

“Dunno, it’s kinda up to you two,” Mikey said calmly, bobbing his head. “I can’t really _say_ much to prove it, or even show you evidence. You just gotta trust me, ‘cause that’s all I got.”

 Donnie sighed, slumping in his chair and putting his hands on his face again. “Of course that’s all you have. I don’t know what I expected. I don’t suppose you’ll tell us anything more about this? I’m getting tired of all the holes in your story.”

“Uh… not… yet?” Mikey said slowly, making Donnie groan into his hands. “I mean… we’re still missing someone.”

“Another person?” Leo asked, breaking his confused silence. “There’s more of us?”

“ _Ish?_ I mean, there’s a couple others, but like… this one’s really important.”

“I’m too tired for this,” Donnie grumbled. “I’m too tired for all of this. This sounds like a video game plot, or a dollar store novel, or… I don’t know. Terrible. It sounds terrible. _Lost our memories good god…_ ”

“Do you know when the other person is showing up?” Leo asked, and Mikey could hear a weird desperation in his voice. Interesting.

Mikey shrugged once again. He couldn’t say. Leo and Donnie shown up when they had, and Raph probably would too. “Dunno. You showed up a while after I got here, and then Donnie showed up a while after you. We just gotta wait patient like for our last person, and we’re set. There isn’t any way we can speed things up, sorry.”

“This is insane,” Donnie said in a displeased voice, still slumped in his chair.

Mikey laughed. This wasn’t even close to insane, not by his standards.

“So you gonna keep the name, Dee?” Mikey asked, burying his inappropriate laughter. “You gotta admit it’s a good one.”

Donnie groaned, grimacing deeply. “I don’t know. Maybe. Fuck if I care anymore. I’m tired and stressed.”

“You sure you won’t tell us anymore?” Leo asked hopefully.

“Mmmmm… nah, sorry. Fresh out of info for today. You used up all your scratch tickets, deposited one too many requests, come back tomorrow to try again,” Mikey cracked a wide, but apologetic grin. “Sorry boys, I’m closing shop for the day.”

Leo looked put out about that, but he let the topic go.

“Does renaming myself Donatello count as culture erasure?” Donnie muttered distantly. “I feel like it might. Zhēnshi yītuánzāo.”

“You gotta get me a translation booklet for you, Dee. I feel like I’m missin’ out here.”

“Tā mā de nǐ,” Donnie hissed, flipping Mikey off.

Mikey didn’t understand that either, but he got enough of a message from the gesture.

 

 

 

Miracles of miracles, Mikey convinced his brothers to let him be for the time being.

“It wouldn’t feel right without…” Mikey gestured vaguely. He curled deeper into his end of their couch, pressing his cheek against the aging fabric.

“Our last person?” Leo had finished softly, also curled up in a corner of their couch.

“Yeah. Four not three. It has to be four.”

“I thought you said there was more than just the one,” Donnie asked in a dry voice from the floor.

Mikey glanced over the edge of the couch, at his brother stretched across the carpet. Donnie was lying on his back to apparently cure an ache. An ache caused by ‘humanity’. Apparently.

“There are,” Mikey confirmed.

“Then why aren’t we waiting for all the rest? Why just the one?”

“Well… this one’s a special case. I mean, the others are really important to us all, but not as much as this one. I also get the feeling the others aren’t going to show up here. Just our last dude.”

Donnie’s only response had been indecipherable grumbling, and turning onto his side to hide in his elbows. “That’s ridiculous.”

Mikey grinned, shaking his head. “You’d understand if you were me.”

“I doubt I’d understand even then.”

That earned a small chuckle from Leo, which he hastily hid from Mikey’s fake offense.

Mikey let them ask questions, but he kept his answers vague, or would simply label the subject as untouchable for the time being.

_It had to be four, not three. Not yet not yet not yet…_

 

 

 

“What did we use’ to do?” Leo asked at one point, watching Mikey do long stretches on the courtyard grass. “Like, for fun and such. Or… I guess in general. What did we do all day?”

“Stuff,” Mikey replied vaguely, bending forwards and touching his toes. “Normal shit most of the time. Video games, skate boarding, getting into fights… one time we fought a snake.”

“A snake?” Leo asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah. A snake. Big thing. Kinda nasty, but you know. She turned out alright,” Mikey pulled out of his stretch, and drew his legs back to himself. As he put one foot behind his head, he kept talking. “She just had a really bad life is all? I mean, she still literally bit us a bunch of times and stuff, but I forgave her. She’s was… I dunno, a snake. Nice to have around, but you gotta treat her right or she’ll turn on you.”

“This sounds like a very intelligent snake,” Donnie said from his position by their favorite tree, peeking over the top of his chosen novel.  “What sort was she?”

“Dunno, _umf-”_ Mikey let his foot slid back down, wincing at how his muscle protested. _Yikes,_ he really needed to get back into shape. “-she was a snake. Never asked what type.”

“Ooooof course not,” Donnie muttered, going back to his book.

“I like snakes, they’re really silky feeling,” Leo said, his voice sort of off. Probably from the drugs. The doctors had upped his dosages again.

Mikey shrugged to them both, and set to getting his second foot behind his head.

 

 

 

“Tell me things about who we ‘used to be’,” Donnie said, making quotations with his fingers. “If you can get even a few facts about us now correct, then I’ll be able to believe you easier.”

Mikey tilted himself sideways- full body and everything- and flopped onto the carpet. It was his turn to sit on the media room’s floor, leaving Donnie and Leo the couch. They _could_ all fit, but since everyone but him was touch phobic…

“Okay so, Leo-” Mikey lifted a hand off the floor and pointed at his quiet brother. “-likes to eat his greens first, and meats last, because they used to be like, kinda really rare? I mean meat. Meat was really rare for us. The good stuff.”

“So we lived in poverty,” Donnie said, not sounding impressed _or_ like he believed. He glanced at Leo. “Is that a true fact about you?”

Leo nodded, a confused and sheepish expression on his face. “I guess, yeah. I like eating them like that for some reason. Didn’t think it was because we, um, had a poor income…”

_More like no income._

“It wasn’t _poverty_ per say… but ish,” Mikey waggled his hand, making the universal _‘ish’_ gesture. “We made do.”

“And what about me?” Donnie asked, in a bored and still disbelieving voice. “I’d like to see you guess _one_ thing right.”

“Um… let’s see… you try to only use pencils because you hate the taste of wood, since you won’t bite them that way, and alternatively tend to chew on the ends of pens, because you have a weird thing for _that_ sort of taste…”

Donnie sat up a bit straighter, looking unsettled.

“Aaaaand… you not-so-secretly name your favorite pieces of tech, when I don’t get to it first… and you name them after little known scientists a lot, because you’re also always trying to prove a point that just ‘cause you’re undiscovered, you won’t always be like that…”

Donnie scowled, a slight flush creeping onto his cheeks. “Oh come on, how do you even-”

“ _And_ , you have like, a bazillion different music playlists, all carefully labeled and shit, because you can’t just listen to _one_ type of music all the time, you need _mood music_ for the right moments and the right hour-”

“Okay, okay! Enough!” Donnie exclaimed, holding up his hands as though to push Mikey away, even though there was plenty of space between them already. “That’s- this is freaking me out. Stop it.”

“You’re the one who _aaaaaaaasked,”_ Mikey drawled, waving his own hands in the air.

“And I regret it.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Leo said bluntly.

Mikey lifted his head, giving Leo a surprised look. Leo’s expression was perfectly emotionless, until his façade of blankness broke and he started laughing. His concentration probably broke because Donnie was giving him a deeply offended look.

Mikey- heart swelling because Leo had made a _joke,_ he was _teasing people_ \- threw back his head and started laughing.

Donnie muttered vicious Chinese at them both, but other than that, didn’t seem too deeply annoyed.

 

 

 

“I wonder why we got separated.”

Mikey paused his leave, glancing over his shoulder at Leo.

They were all being split up for the night, heading off to their rooms for sleep. Patients and staff going all directions in the hallway, hurrying people to their places for curfew.

Leo, at the moment, had the least amount of drugs in his system he would all day. He seemed nearly clear eyed, for once.

Leo threaded his fingers together, clasping his hands. “It sounds like something from a sci-fi novel. If we were that close… and now we can’t remember at all… what could have caused that?”

Mikey ran a hand through his hair, sighing.

He’d been trying to figure that one out his whole second life.

“Dunno. But I hate it.” Mikey said truthfully. He rarely used the word hate meaningfully, but for this, he would. “Really wish I had an actual answer to that, but I don’t. Sorry, Leo.”

Leo nodded understandingly, a soft and sad smile on his face. “It’s alright. You’re doing your best.”

Then, a nurse appeared between them both, and Leo was ushered away towards his wing. He didn’t even get a chance to look back over his shoulder, the crowd swallowing him up too fast.

Mikey watched his brother disappear, and felt bad for keeping his secrets. He wanted to tell Leo everything, or at least everything he could remember-

-but, not yet. He couldn’t. Not until they had Raph. It wouldn’t feel right otherwise. Four not three… four not three…

He needed one more, and then they’d be four again. Just one more brother… and then they’d have four…

_One more one more one more…_

 

 

 

Honestly, one of Mikey’s favorite things lately, was how the staff of their facility had started to just- _skitter_ out of their way. Out of the way of him and his brothers, when they walked down the halls together.

Maybe they seemed a bit intimidating, and probably more than mildly worrying given their individual reputations, but Mikey found it hilarious.

Sometimes he’d whisper _“Squad”_ to himself when they did that, just for the hell of it. Donnie called him out on it, in a dry and vaguely amused tone. Mikey responded by striking a pose, and saying it louder.

That one got an actual _laugh_ from Donnie, and a real smile from Leo.

Best thing to happen all day, except…

Mikey had stopped, all of them halfway through a journey to the courtyard- opposite from the media room- by the doorway of the cafeteria.

People who definitely weren’t staff members milled around inside, their brightly colored shirts identifying them as a group or service brought into the facility. There were streamers being hung all along the walls, and multi-colored balloons tied to them as well. And was that a banner being hung up-?

“Yooooo… what the heck’s going on in here?” Mikey asked aloud.

“It’s a mid-year celebration of all the patients’ birthdays, because it would be costly and overly complicated to celebrate them one by one” Donnie supplied. He glanced down at Mikey, raising an eyebrow behind his glasses frames. “Weren’t you paying attention to the announcements this morning?”

“Uh….”

“I’ll take that as a no,” Donnie sighed.

Leo peeked around Mikey, looking around at the festive decorations. “Huh. This is really nice of them.”

“It’s _cheap_ of them, lumping us all together like this,” Donnie said irritably. “And I hate celebrating my birthday anyways.”

“What??” Mikey exclaimed in fake shock, slapping a hand over his heart. “How could you hate _birthdays?”_

“Easily,” Donnie replied, rolling his eyes. “God, they’re probably going to make us all sing ‘happy birthday’ too. I hate singing. And people. Wonder if I can convince them to let me just go hungry and turn in early…”

Mikey tuned out, because his attention had drifted to someone else.

Mikey locked onto a person across the room, and without consciously choosing to, started towards them.

He passed by workers, ignoring their stares and glancing. He pushed past wheeled in carts, and darted around tables. As he walked, he picked up speed, and came close to sprinting.

He vaulted over a stray cart, without any heed given to the shouts following him, and kept his eyes on his goal.

He stopped, panting from the sudden burst of running, at the base of a ladder. One of the workers was standing on it, struggling to tape a streamer bundle to the plaster.

Mikey stared up at the bottle dye red hair, the ill-fitting t-shirt crammed over a long sleeve one, and the strong shoulders of the person.

She looked down, her longish red hair sweeping around her face as she did. Her lips curled downwards, and she wrinkled her tan nose.

Mikey stared back at her, feeling elated.

The girl brushed her hair behind her ear, exposing three piercings there as she narrowed bright emerald eyes at Mikey.

“The fuck do you want?” She- _he?_ \- asked, just as surly and gruff as Mikey remembered.

Mikey grinned widely.

_That made four._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, I doubt anyone was expecting Raph to Not be a patient, am I right? Huh? Huh??  
> I've been waiting ages for this.
> 
> Okay so a big reason why I Didn't make Raph a patient- it's because I hate characters being reduced to a single trait. In our fandom, it's Raph's temper. His 'rage issues' as people tend to coin it.  
> I got an enormous amount of comments about people being worried how violent and terrifying Raph would be as an unstable mental institution patient... and Sike! Not happening.  
> Though it happening has less to do with those comments, and more to do with the over all plot. I had this twist planned out long before I started actually writing the story. To put it simply, it was set in stone.
> 
> More about Raph's reincarnated self next chapter, obvs speaking.
> 
>  
> 
> (And a note about Donnie lying on the floor: I do that. A lot. Being horizontal and close to the ground helps Immensely when I'm feeling off balance.)


	9. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shrugs*
> 
> its a thing.

He stared down at the kid, trying to figure out why the hell he was grinning like that.

He couldn’t even tell what race the kid was; just that he was pretty dark all around. Light enough for freckles to show, but not enough that he’d be mistaken for white.

He had blue eyes though. You didn’t see that very often, not with dark skin.

“I like what you did with your hair,” The kid suddenly blurted, still grinning. “It suits you a lot.”

He raised an eyebrow. Was that supposed to be a pick up line? Weak.

“Oh- uh, shoot, um,” The kid smacked himself upside the head, suddenly looking awkward. “Right! Introductions. I’m Mikey, but a few people call me Michelangelo! What’s yours?”

He opened his mouth to reply _“None of your damn business”,_ but-

“Rachel! Rachel oh my god- I’m so sorry!”

Rachel sighed, and rolled his eyes. One of the nurses who’d been supervising the party set up was rushing over, looking distressed that Mikey had approached him.

Fair enough. Crazy mental patient and all that.

“Michael, you can’t be in here!” She hissed to the kid, grabbing his shoulder. “You _know_ the rules about approaching out of facility staff members.”

Mikey- _Michelangelo? Michael?-_ shrugged out of the lady’s grip. He was still smiling up at Rachel.

“You’re staying for the party, right?” He asked, blue eyes bright with hope.

Huh.

Weird.

“Someone has to take down all this stuff,” Rachel replied dryly, gesturing at the decorations along the wall. It was company property too, the better pieces. Couldn’t leave their best stuff here, now could they?

Mikey grinned, wide and excited. Rachel frowned in return.

Mikey started to say something else, but a couple more nurses appeared, and hauled him away. He kept glancing back over his shoulder as he went, fighting to see over the shoulders of his escorts, all so he could smile at Rachel again and again.

Rachel watched him go, and saw the kid meet with another pair of patients at the exit. Geeze, did that tall one even eat? He looked thinner than what was healthy. The smaller, darker one though, seemed fairly average. For a mental patient, at least.

Mikey said something to the other two, and then all three of them were looking at Rachel.

Huh. Red eyes, and two types of blue ones. And all on darker skinned individuals. That was pretty unusual.

Rachel had unusual eyes too. You didn’t find bright green irises in many first nations.

Rachel also felt like he’d seen them somewhere before.

The three boys were ushered away though, before Rachel could think any further on them.

“Miss?”

Internally, Rachel twinged, but he kept a pleasant expression on for the sake of his job. “Yes?”

“You alright?” The male nurse asked, the one who’d stay behind from the small mob that had taken Mikey away. “We’re really sorry you had to experience that. Michael can be a bit of a… troublemaker, sometimes. We’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you again.”

Rachel wasn’t sure why he felt vaguely disappointed at that.

“Sure. Thanks.” Rachel said, shrugging.

He was left alone after that, and Rachel went back to work. Had to make the paycheck and all that.

His mind kept drifting back to the patients though. Especially Mikey’s smile.

 

 

 

Rachel wasn’t crazy, far as anyone knew.

He’d like to keep it that way.

 

 

 

Rachel took a long, slow drag of his cigarette.

The sound of music couldn’t be heard this far out, but when he’d left, there’d been plenty of noise. Seemed like the patients of the facility were more than happy to be enjoying a collective party.

Rachel had only been in and out for a moment, having left after finishing set up. For cake, because that was his apparent bonus for sticking around so patiently.

He’d been avoiding everyone’s eyes, but he’d ended up finding someone’s anyways.

Mikey. Again.

Even through the mildly chaotic room, filled to the brim with staff and patients, Rachel's eyes had found Mikey’s. Blue met green through the crowd, and Rachel had stopped for a full ten seconds.

Mikey was sitting with his friends, the tall and short dark ones. He was still smiling. At Rachel.

Lots of people smiled at Rachel. All of them smiled for politeness sake, or the wrong reasons.

Mikey’s smile was different.

Rachel blew a soft exhale out of his mouth. He was still stuck on that look. The look from Mikey, and to an extent, the ones his friends had also been giving.

Like Mikey knew something. Knew _Rachel._

Rachel had never seen the kid a day in his life.

Mikey still seemed familiar though. All three kids did.

Rachel took another drag.

He was too tired for this. He didn’t need weird feelings or people or anything interfering with his work.

This job was really getting on his nerves, but he needed it. Rent to pay, food to buy, same old same old.

Mental patients, who smiled like Rachel was their old friend, hadn’t been included in the job description.

 Rachel almost missed the other job he’d had, at Mc’Donald’s- except no, because fuck that noise. He wasn’t ever setting foot in another one of those hell holes again if he could help it.

Another exhale, watching the smoke drift up into the air, free as anything.

Rachel couldn’t wait to leave. The facility was giving him the creeps. He’d spent this long keeping out of places like that- places that took you in and picked you apart until you weren’t _you_ anymore- and he didn’t plan to get caught now.

Rachel mostly wanted to go home, lie down, and not ever get back up again.

He always felt like that though, so nothing new there.

His cigarette dropped ash onto the ground, the grey crumbling into the gravel like it’d never been. Rachel could relate to that.

Someone called to Rachel, and he lifted his head. One of his coworkers was gesturing him inside. Time to start clean up, then.

Rachel dropped his cigarette, stamped it out, and picked up his empty cake plate.

Clean up was fairly short, but Rachel got stuck with sweeping- which sucked ass when you were wearing three different layers of clothes. And had hair.

His arms and midriff begged for relief, but Rachel stubbornly ignored the need to go get rid of his long sleeve shirt. He couldn’t do that here.

Rachel pushed the last of the dust into the pan, and lifted it up to dump it out. It almost spilled back onto the floor, the paper decorations inside it not letting the dust fall right in.

Rachel didn’t wait to be asked to empty the garbage, he just did it. Bundling it up, and heaving the thing out of the can, Rachel set off towards the bins he knew were out back.

Good thing he spent… well, not most, but a good portion of his time at the gym. He spent more time at home.

Rachel rounded the corner, carrying the bulky bag with him, when he skidded to a stop.

Mikey was there, unattended and still grinning.

Rachel’s internal panic flared, and he got ready for a confrontation.

It was always the tan ‘girls’ that people went for, wasn’t it?

“Hey! Glad I caught you a’fore you left!” Mikey said cheerfully, glancing around in case someone was nearby. “Sorry to surprise you like that, but they weren’t gonna let me near you again unless I snuck off. Uh, ignore how weird that sounded. I swear I’m just here to give you this.”

He held out his hand, with a paper between his thumb and index finger.

Rachel looked at the kid’s hand, and then up at the kid.

Mikey was smiling still, but there was a certain amount of nervousness to it now.

He looked sort of desperate.

“I’m not supposed to take things from the patients,” Rachel said, remembering the briefing before they’d started set up. “I could get in serious trouble for that.”

“I- well, that really sucks, but please?” Mikey took a step closer, still holding out the paper. “I don’t have time to talk- Donnie can only keep the nurses occupied for so long- so you just gotta- please? For me, kay?”

_(“For me, kay?”)_

Rachel blinked, and found he’d taken the paper.

_“I promise it’ll be worth it, just trust me, Raph!”_

“Ra- what?” Rachel glanced up, but Mikey was already running back down the hallway, thin white shoes making zero sound as he did. Then he was gone, vanished around the corner.

Rachel looked down the hallway, and then again at the paper.

It was a folded note, from the looks of it.

Maybe a phone number? Or maybe not. Despite Rachel’s original thoughts, the interactions with Mikey didn’t feel quite like attempts to pick him up.

Besides, how would Mikey even answer the phone? Cell phones were banned inside the facility. There was no way he’d have one.

Rachel realized he’d been loitering in the hall for five minutes now, and would probably have people after him if he didn’t get back soon. Fuck.

He shoved the note deep into his pants pocket- nothing suspicious nope- and intended to toss it out into the bins with the bags. Rachel hurried off down the hall, cursing the stupid psychotic boy who’d interrupted him.

Rachel hurried right back to the cafeteria, and finished helping clean up. He didn’t realize until afterwards, when he was putting the key into the ignition of the van, and he felt a crinkle in his pocket- that he’d forgotten to get rid of the note.

Rachel hid his mild panic about that, and focused on acting at least vaguely friendly with his coworkers until they got back to the store.

He said goodbye to his boss and coworkers, exchanging the reminder of where they’d be catering to next, and then jogged to catch the bus home.

It was late, dark, and Rachel didn’t have anyone who knew where he was. He felt tense the whole way home, watching every person who got onto the bus. More than once, he felt people watching him too.

Rachel’s skin crawled, and the only moment that feeling lifted, was when he again realized he still had the note.

He took it out of his pants pocket when he got off the bus, alone in the dark street and three blocks from his house. On the way there, he ran his finger along the paper’s folded edge, debating to open it or not.

Could be a pick up line, could be a number, or could be a death threat. Rachel couldn’t tell, not with the origins the paper had.

Why hadn’t he thrown it away already? He could just toss it onto the ground and forget about it.

Rachel didn’t toss it onto the ground.

It stayed in his hand.

Rachel shoved his house key into the door, and pushed it open. Slamming it shut behind him, and shucking his coat onto the floor, he sighed long and hard. A deep wave of exhaustion washed over him, and he had a hard time not lying down right then.

_(C’mon, just get upstairs at least. You don’t need dinner, just get out of those clothes.)_

Rachel dumped his keys in the bowl by the door, and kicked off his shoes. The dull thunks they made were the only sound in the house.

Figured. No one would be back for at least another few weeks.

Coming home to a cold, empty house was normal. For him at least.

He wasn’t sure why it sometimes bothered him still. It shouldn’t.

Rachel scrubbed tiredly at his eyes, climbing up the creaky stairway to the second floor. The stained carpet upstairs greeted him, the old grey near black in the darkness.

Rachel pushed open the door to his room, and flicked on the light. The bulb turned on, illuminating the mess his bedroom was. Clothes, papers, random shit he hadn’t gotten rid of post high school… junk in general. It was everywhere.

Rachel kicked a pile of laundry out of the way, and started pulling off his shirts.

The fabric caught on his scabs, but he ignored the sensation. The feeling of just getting the thing _off_ was worth it. His work shirt and long sleeve shirt got tossed to the floor, and kicked to the side.

Rachel paused, hands hovering around his bra straps.

He didn’t look in the full length mirror by his closet.

He hated looking in mirrors.

Rachel undid the snaps, and pulled the sizes too small thing off.

Putting on an old band t-shirt, and his baggiest hoodie, Rachel felt… not better.

Just. Less worse.

Mostly, Rachel felt tired. He always felt tired, when he didn’t feel… other things.

He didn’t feel like making dinner for himself. He didn’t feel like doing much of anything. But Rachel could feel insomnia lurking around the edges of his brain, so sleep was out of the options for the moment.

Drink and a smoke, then. No one was here to stop him anyways.

Rachel went back downstairs, grabbed a beer from the fridge no one would miss, his pack of smokes from his jacket, and returned to his room. Pulling the window open, he slid out onto the roof of his home.

As he did, he remembered the note.

It was in his pocket again. Still unopened, still undisposed of.

Why wouldn’t he just throw it away already?

The image of Mikey’s desperate blue eyes flashed through his mind, and Rachel felt… something, lodge in his throat.

Huh.

He opened the beer, tossing the cap away into the yard below.

The night was getting colder, and just the streetlights were still on. Everyone else’s homes, as run down as some of them were, already had their lights out. Happy little families all settled in for the night.

Rachel was the only one in his house. That’s usually how it was.

A sharp wind blew across the ledge Rachel sat on, blowing his hair upwards. He felt cold start to sink in through his hoodie, and brought his drink to his lips.

Rachel took a long sip, and then took the note out.

It was a bit wrinkled now, from being in and out of his pocket so many times.

Rachel stared at it.

Well, no shame in at least reading whatever it said. If it was death threats, then whatever. Rachel didn’t think the kid could do much to him anyways, not while being locked up.

Rachel unfolded the note.

 

_hey so i just met you, and this is crazy, but since i don't have a number come visit me! : D_

_for real. please come back and visit. we got some stuff to talk about and itd suck if you went away and never came back again. please? just a short visit i swear_

_its important i promise. dont know if you got the same vibes that leo and donnie got but like_

_dude, i know you, and you hopefully know me, and leo and donnie know you too and maybe you know them??_

_how do you write letters_

_uh_

_please come back and see us? i know we gotta look crazy i mean come on asylum and all that but_

_please?? im begging you here_

_we all are_

 

On the bottom of the note were three signatures. A messy and loopy _Michelangelo,_ a neat and cursive _Leonardo,_ and a half-assed scribble of _Donatello_.

There were also water stains. Circular droplets on the very edge.

Tear marks?

“What the fuck,” Rachel muttered, reading the note again. “Renaissance artists?”

What the hell was this supposed to be?

And where had he heard those names before?

Rachel finished his drink, reading the note another ten times.

The burn of light alcohol slowly moved through him, warm and filling. Almost as good as nicotine felt, though beer made him feel fuzzy around the edges instead.

_‘i know you’_

Yeah right.

He folded it back up, this time scrunching it up into a ball.

He lifted his hand, getting ready to throw it into the yard, where it would get rained on and muddy and slowly degrade into nothingness-

Rachel started to throw, but stopped.

Sighing, he lowered his hand.

He shoved the note into his pocket.

He wasn’t sure why he did, but he kept the note.

Rachel dug out a cigarette, and lit it.

Smoke wafted around him, and he blew a harsh cloud out. Whiteness was swept away from him, dissipating into the night.

Rachel stared down at the yard. There was a pretty good drop to the ground. It was at least a fifteen feet.

Rachel took a slow drag.

Not far enough. Maybe break his leg, but that wouldn’t do anything.

Shame.

He settled for kicking his beer bottle off the edge.

He didn’t know why he always stared at the drop like that. He’d lived here for the better part of his life. He knew it wouldn’t be enough.

Rachel blew out a long sigh.

He was really tired.

He also felt gross, sweat long since dried on his body. Disgusting.

Rachel stubbed out his cigarette on the shingles, and climbed back inside to take a shower.

 

 

 

Rachel’s hair hung heavy around his head as he washed, hints of the red dye catching in the soap. He’d have to dye it again if he wanted it to stay bright.

He wasn’t sure why he’d even dyed it. Didn’t make him feel better about anything, just made him a brighter target to people.

Late night impulses, and he’d always liked this shade of red.

_“I like what you did with your hair, it suits you a lot.”_

Rachel spat into the drain. Weird kid. What the hell did he want with Rachel anyways. _‘I know you’_ , yeah right…

Rachel’s own family didn’t know him. Some random mental patient sure as hell wasn’t going to.

Rachel finished washing out his hair, and glanced at his collection of razors.

He reached out for one, but again-

Mikey’s intense blue eyed stare flashed across his mind.

Rachel’s hand hovered over his razors, and then he pulled it back.

Maybe he didn’t need that tonight. Alcohol and cigarettes and exhaustion had done enough of a job.

He turned off the shower.

Getting out, he wrung out his hair, and took a towel off the rack to wipe off his face.

On a whim, he ran his hand across the vanity mirror once, then again, then again until he could see himself.

He’d avoided the full length mirror, but for whatever reason, he felt like looking in the bathroom one.

Rachel still had circles under his eyes. He always had those. He got compliments on his eyes often, but he always thought they seemed dull. Dead.

His eyes drifted down to his chest.

He lifted a hand, and ran one finger along the largest scar there. Right above his heart, jagged and thick.

Then his finger drifted, tracing the other slimmer lines further down. Down along his breasts, down across his stomach. Multiple scars, each deliberate and purposeful.

He put a hand on his arm, feeling the fresher ones. The scabs had come off again.

Rachel’s eyes went back to the mirror.

A girl stared back. A girl with dead, dull eyes.

Rachel sighed, and didn’t feel much of anything.

_(“Freak.”)_

He glanced back at the tub. At his razors.

Maybe he did need that tonight.

 

 

 

Rachel lay on top of his bed, covers tossed to the side.

He stared at the digital clock on his side table. It blinked its harsh red numbers, _3:00 AM._

He had work tomorrow morning.

Rachel turned over, away from the clock.

The sheets dragged on the band-aids he’d slapped onto his arms, pulling at the closing cuts there.

A cloak of silent static radiated from his arms, having spread over him as he’d pressed the cool metal to his skin. Easy as anything, and better than any beer. It’d made his eyelids heavy, and everything quiet.

He’d hoped it would be enough to make him sleep.

But the silence around him felt oppressive, even though it shouldn’t. He’d been alone this long; he should have been used to it by now.

Rachel stared at the wall through the dark. There wasn’t anything to hear other than his own heartbeat.

He was alone.

If he disappeared, no one notice for weeks. Maybe months.

Maybe his work place would care, but only because they’d have to replace him.

Rachel was replaceable, easily so. Anyone could do what he did. Probably do it better, even.

_(What if I just do it already? Get it over with.)_

No one cared either way. Rachel could definitely leave, and have exactly no one miss him.

Rachel didn’t move to get up though, didn’t bother moving at all. If he could have stopped breathing, he might’ve.

He felt exhausted, but still couldn’t sleep.

Nothing new. The whole day had been just as normal as the all ones before it.

Except.

Three different pairs of eyes went through his mind, Mikey’s written words echoing in Rachel’s head.

_‘i know you’_

Where had Rachel heard those names before, outside of his school education?

Maybe… maybe he did know…

Rachel fell asleep, exhausted and in pain.

But that was normal. It’d been that way for a long time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was probs on accident and stuff, but some of you didn't read the tags of the fic and gendered raph incorrectly. its why i didn't reply to many comments last chapter.
> 
> i'll let it slide this time, but y'all can't pull that again, you hear me? i'll delete comments that do.


	10. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings apply, this is still Raph's perspective. likely speaking you all know what to expect and can handle it, but there is some graphic imagery later in the chapter. fair warning.
> 
> also: music rec for where the author's head was at while writing this, check 'Venus Fly by Grimes - ft. Janelle Monáe'. Grimes is amazing and I listen to her pretty much all the time.

_His lungs were heaving, his sides burning with exertion as they ran faster. The sewer tunnels flashed by them, getting larger the deeper they ran into the complex._

_It wasn’t enough though. He knew that it wasn’t going to be enough._

_He grabbed his companion, pulling him aside. He gasped out, “This isn’t working. We have to split up.”_

_“Wha- NO!” ----- shouted, shoving his hands away. “NO! We stay together!”_

_“If we don’t split up, then neither of us are gonna get away!”_

_Emotions flickered across -----‘s face, before he bristled and exclaimed, “I’m not losing you too! I- we can’t lose anyone else!”_

_“You’re not!” He refuted. Then, lowering his voice, “You’re not. I promise. I’ll just hold him off long enough for you to find the others, and then we’ll all regroup.”_

_A lie._

_\----- looked at him with clear suspicion. Hurt suspicion. “You promise?”_

_“Would I ever lie to you?” He said, trying for his usual cocky grin even as the words soured in his mouth._

_“Yes. Like, multiple times.”_

_“Not this time,” He said, grasping -----‘s shoulder and squeezing it. “Not this time. I promise I’ll find you guys. Just- find Don and Leo. And April too. Get everyone together and I’ll find you all, got it?”_

_\----- reached out, and grabbed his other hand. A tight, fearful squeeze followed the motion. “You have to promise me. Don’t- don’t do anything stupid or heroic or- or I don’t know. Dumbass stuff.”_

_“You’re the dumbass,” He teased._

_“What bounces off me-” Mikey said, repeating a phrase he used often. “-sticks to you.”_

_“It can sure try,” He replied, same as every time they used that phrase._

_Mikey’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You promise, for real, right? You’ll find us again?”_

_“Mikey, doesn’t matter where you all get off to-” He tugged Mikey closer, and gave him a tight hug. “-I’ll find you guys no matter what.”_

_“I know. But I’m scared,” Mikey whispered, hugging back equally tight. “I’m really, really scared.”_

_He closed his eyes, and ignored how heavy his heart felt. “I know. We all are. Now get going, you’ve got a number of idiots to track down.”_

_Mikey chuckled once, and then let go. As he turned and left, picking up speed as he did, R--- watched him go. When Mikey finally disappeared, leaving no trace or sound of himself, he sighed._

_He heard the sounds of shrieking metal approaching, and ground shaking footsteps rock the tunnel. The sounds echoed around the tunnel’s length, signalling how close their enemy had gotten in just the last few seconds._

_He slowly took out his weapons, spun them in his hands, and got ready to fight._

_“Sorry, Mikey,” He said under his breath, a final wry grin making its way onto his face. “I can’t keep all my promises.”_

_He met the oncoming monster head on, and didn’t regret the choice he made between his life or his-_

 

 

 

 

Rachel woke up.

His alarm clock blared, and he turned over to stare at it dully.

The alarm continued.

Rachel stared at it, and made no move to turn it off.

His dream slipped away steadily, colors and sounds and events in it fading into black. Something about tunnels, and how he’d been scared of them too. Also that he’d lost someone. A number of someones.

A nightmare, then. Wonderful.

His alarm clock was still blaring. He stared at it listlessly, unable to move his arm out to turn it off.

  _(Just turn it off. Reach out, and turn it off.)_

Rachel stared at it. He blinked slowly, watching the glaring red lights blink on and off.

_(Just move. Do it. Just reach out, and turn. it. off.)_

Rachel groaned as the blaring alarm got louder.

_(JUST MOVE ALREADY.)_

_Uuuuuuuuuugh._

He finally- _finally-_ summoned enough energy to drag his arm out from under the comforter. It hurt to stretch out the healing cuts, but he managed it anyways.

Rachel slammed the top of his alarm clock, and let his arm flop limply. He didn’t even have enough energy to drag it back under the covers.

Rachel didn’t notice he’d hit the off button instead of the snooze button- _why were they so close together, god_ \- and ended up dozing off again.

It was some time later, after more fitful, black sleep, that his phone’s ring tone woke him up.

Rachel rolled towards his side table, slapped a hand over the phone, and sighed harshly before answering it.

“H’llo?” He asked, voice feeling like gravel.

_“Rachel? You sound terrible. Its Bill calling. You didn’t show up for work this morning.”_

Rachel glanced at his alarm clock, and found the numbers blinking it was almost noon already. “Sh- Bill, I’m sorry. God. I had- I had a bad night.”

_“You sound like you swallowed a frog. You get sick?”_

Rachel could only be so lucky. “Maybe,” He croaked out. “I feel really bad. Still want me to come in anyways?”

_“No, it’s been a really slow day, and you already took three extra shifts last week. You’re good for a sick day. Feel better, alright? Have your folks take real good care of you.”_

Rachel looked at his ceiling, and tried to imagine his family being so nurturing. Maybe. They weren’t much for the nurturing types, more the _‘here’s-some-drugs-hope-you-don’t-die’_ types.

“Will do,” Rachel replied.

_“See you in a few days then, feel better!”_

“Thanks again, Bill. Sorry for not callin’ in either. I just-” _couldn’t move my useless ass to even wake up properly. “_ \- was in too deep to wake up. Sorry.”

 _“No worries, I’m just glad to hear you’re alright. Rest up and report back when you sound like you’re not dying anymore,”_ Rachel’s boss laughed over the phone.

“Thanks Bill. I will.”

_“Bye, Rachel.”_

“Bye, Bill.”

Bill hung up, and Rachel held the phone to his ear a moment longer. Then he sighed, hung up, and released it so it dropped onto his pillow.

He rolled over, and let himself start falling asleep.

_(Useless. Couldn’t even get up and call your boss. Pathetic.)_

He ignored the inner voices he had, and drifted off again.

 

 

 

Rachel slept until late afternoon, and only _just_ managed to get out of bed by then.

Even then, it was hard pressed. He hadn’t eaten anything in nearly twenty-four hours, and it’d left him with no blood sugar. Standing up had felt like the most arduous thing he’d ever done.

Rachel dragged himself downstairs, into the kitchen, and poured himself a bowl of cereal. No milk. He’d never really taken to putting milk in his cereal for some reason.

He wandered back upstairs with the bowl of dry food, ignoring the shut bedroom doors he passed. Nothing made any noise in his home except for him, and it made his creaking footsteps on the floor all the louder.

He turned on his CD player to drown out the quiet. Turning up the speakers so he could feel the bass in his ribs, right through his thick hoodie.

Rachel sat down on his bed, leaning against the wall, and took a few bites of his pathetic meal choices. The dry flakes tasted like cardboard, but he didn’t feel like making a real meal yet. Too much effort.

Rachel finished his bowl, set it aside, and tried to think of what he should do with his impromptu day off.

Maybe he should clean the house. For once.

…too much work. He didn’t even want to _see_ the laundry pile his cousins had left.

Go to the gym?

…not with his cuts he couldn’t. Rachel cursed himself for that oversight. Running and lifting weights would agitate the cuts worse, and make them take longer to heal. Especially since he had to wear long sleeve shirts out in public.

So what?

Rachel’s CD hit a familiar song track, and he drummed his fingers.

Maybe he could draw. He could still do that, even if he failed at everything else.

_(Not that he was any good. Not that it would ever amount to anything. He could have been in university, but instead he was just screwing around. Uselessly.)_

Rachel decided to give his cuts time to breathe, shucked off his sweatshirt. His old band t-shirt was big enough it obscured his figure, and he ignored the mirror by his dresser. He instead tugged open the stubborn drawers of his desk, and dug out his sketchpad and pencils.

The sound of pencil on paper lulled Rachel into an easy daze. He didn’t think as much when he was drawing, just letting everything go quiet for a bit. It was one of the few things he could do and not feel bad about afterwards. There wasn’t any guilt from drawing, no self-reprimanding or spiralling frustration. He felt like less of a failure.

Rachel ended up with multiple sketches of a tunnel and of a bulky shaped person. The tunnels ended up with good detail, and had been easy to draw out, but the person…

Rachel kept smudging out the face, and the hands, and the body too… and in the end he only got rough gesture drawings of the person. He couldn’t recall anything other than that.

The person had chains though, that extended and shortened depending on their use. He could recall that well enough to draw the person in a whirlwind of movement, chains spinning around his head and body like smoke trails.

Rachel forgot himself for a bit, and drew the person another few times. It wasn’t until it was getting dark that he came out of his drawing fugue, and figured he should make himself some real food.

He pulled the best pages of his sketches out, and tacked them onto the large corkboard opposite to his bed. Scattered and piled onto the board were other, older sketches Rachel had done over the years. Some had gotten progressively darker as he got older, involving rough figures in mid-combat and monsters that were straight from horror movies, but there were somehow still lighter ones. Happier ones.

One of the gesture sketches, of the person Rachel couldn’t put a face to no matter what he tried, counted as one of those. By some stroke of luck, Rachel had managed to draw the smile of the person. Wide and toothy. Teasing and friendly.

Familiar.

Rachel moved it to the center of the board for a reason he couldn’t name.

 

 

 

Rachel went back to work the next day, and the next, and the next.

He forgot about the note in his pants pocket for a whole week. He put the asylum and the strange boys he’d met there, and the eeriness that they evoked in him, out of his mind.

It was only when he was doing the first laundry load in a month that he rediscovered the note, and then the whole experience came rushing back.

He held the crumbled piece of paper in his hands, and wondered why he wasn’t just tossing it out.

It sat in his hands. Innocent and suspicious. It didn’t offer any answers to Rachel’s wavering desire to throw it away.

In the end, he shoved it into the pocket of his sweatshirt, and pushed it from his mind again.

Every time he remembered it, he would forcibly ignore it. He wasn’t going to think about its contents or the senders of it. He didn’t let himself.

He still didn’t throw it out though.

Rachel went to work, picked up extra shift hours, came home to an empty house, and still didn’t throw the note out.

It sat in his pocket, or on his nightstand, or tauntingly in his hand. Asking him to open it again. Read it again.

Rachel would stare at it. Hatefully.

He didn’t know why it bothered him so much, why it tugged at the back of his mind, or why the contents made him so upset.

He didn’t want to deal with this. He had enough to deal with, just forcing himself to get up and attempt to function like an actual person every day. He didn’t need mysterious notes or bizarre, familiar boys bothering him.

Two weeks later, he gave in while he was drinking, again, and re-read the stupid note.

Same as last time. Scrawling words, pleading for a visit, names that sounded familiar for a reason beyond Rachel’s art history knowledge…

Rachel read it over and over, head swimming with alcohol, and still couldn’t figure what to make of it.

He grabbed another beer from the fridge, and stopped thinking about it for the rest of the night.

 

 

 

Rachel had more nightmares. Vivid nightmares. Ones that he couldn’t remember properly the next day.

Running from someone. Looking for someone. Losing someone. Sometimes it was nicer things. Dreams about a home that wasn’t his, filled with people he couldn’t place. Those dreams were few and far between, but they were nice whenever they came around. Even if they made Rachel feel lonely.

Rachel drew out the things he could remember from the dreams, feeling like he needed to for some reason. They were too important to forget for some reason. His corkboard and sketchbook filled with pencil lead sketches, and his hands got covered in black dust. He kept drawing.

He started keeping the note with him, all the time. In his pocket, in his hand, it didn’t matter how, but it was always nearby.

Rachel read it enough times he memorized it. He knew every loop of handwriting and every exclamation point. He still didn’t throw it out, as much as he wanted to. Wanted to want to.

It became frayed on the edges, from crinkling and Rachel’s constant folding of it. He crushed it ten times, and then carefully unfolded it another ten. He still couldn’t throw it out, even as a crease tear started down the middle.

Rachel smoked, and worked, and drank, and cut, and kept a hold of the note.

He started thinking about the boys. About Mikey.

He’d only seen them all a few times, split seconds nearly, but he could still recall every detail of them. They stood out so well in his mind that he didn’t think he could forget them, hard as he might have tried.

Two sets of blue eyes, one set of red. The three of them stuck around in Rachel’s headspace, still staring at him like they had been. Rachel wasn’t sure what to do with that, and couldn’t figure out how to get rid of it.

The note stayed with him even at the gym, tucked into his sweatshirt for whenever he put the article of clothing back on. Even as Rachel worked out until his hands and legs shook, the note and its written words stayed with him. The three boys started accompanying those words.

He wanted to know what the other two sounded like. To know if they’d invoke the same déjà vu that Mikey had. He wanted to know which was which; even as something in the back of his mind whispered that he already knew that. He considered going back.

Rachel kicked the snot out of punching bags, and then hit them until his knuckles were bruised from the impacts. Just to keep those thoughts from clouding his mind.

He still couldn’t throw out the note.

 

 

 

“Hey Rach.”

“Hey what?” Rachel responded distractedly.

“You’re zoned out as hell today, what’s your issue?” His co-worker asked. Cynthia leaned too far into Rachel’s space, and he backed away from her. She was staring at the note in Rachel’s hands. “You’re looking at that piece of paper for, like, the millionth time today. What’s written on it anyways? Is it a _boy’s_ number?”

The way she said ‘boy’s number’ made Rachel want to scoff at her. Like the world revolved around men or something. Rachel shoved the note into his pocket, out of sight again. “No. It’s just a note.”

“Yeah, but what’s _on_ the note? Come on come on, you never tell me _anything_ , Rachel.”

 _Maybe because I don’t like you,_ Rachel thought irritably, sliding a bit further away from Cynthia. It was just the two of them behind the counter at the moment, and business was slow. Not many people wanted catering at the moment, it seemed.

“It’s private,” Rachel said shortly, though he tried to soften the words enough that he wouldn’t get in trouble.

Cynthia huffed, and flicked her short bob. She didn’t seem pleased that Rachel wasn’t talking. Oh what a shame.

“So, like I was saying,” Cynthia said, picking up where she’d interrupted herself. “Me and the girls are getting together tonight, and I was just wondering if you’d be interested? We’re going to that bar downtown that doesn’t check ID’s. It’s a girl’s night out, come live a little for once!”

The phrase _‘girl’s night out’_ rankled Rachel’s temper, and he carefully repressed it. Snapping at his co-worker would just get him reprimanded.

Besides, Cynthia didn’t know. Nobody did.

_(“Freak.”)_

Almost nobody.

“No thanks, I’ve got work at home to take care of,” Rachel said.

“Aw, boo. You _always_ have work to take care of. Why can’t you just ditch and hang out with us?”

Because Rachel would have literally preferred he get hit by a car, rather than be forced to go spend the night with a bunch of crazy girls. Why did Cynthia always ask him this anyways? Maybe he needed to tone down the social grace enough that she’d leave off.

“Big family, big mess,” Rachel said. “Gotta keep up with it.”

“Pssh, yeah. Sure. Sounds way too fifties if you ask me, making the _girl_ of the family do everything around the house.”

Actually, no one did anything around the house, and Rachel liked it that way. It helped that no one was ever _in_ the house, but still.

Rachel’s temper boiled quietly, mostly because of Cynthia’s bizarre and irritating need to assign him a gender every second breath.

A customer walked in through the doors, and Rachel sighed under his breath. Narrow avoidance, again, of snapping at his co-workers for no reason. At least that was one thing he’d managed today.

Rachel suffered through the rest of his shift, and escaped afterwards without letting Cynthia corner him again.

Her words played through his mind over and over though, keeping him company all the bus ride home. The loudness of them kept increasing every loop, and by the time Rachel reached his stop, he was stewing in silent fury.

This happened too often. Little things, it was always little things that set him off. They dug under his skin and made themselves at home like stinging nettles, stinging and stinging and stinging until Rachel felt like tearing them out by force.

Rachel kicked in the door of his house, slammed it behind him, and released the furious scream that’d been building in him all. fucking. _day._

He ditched his shoes and coat at the door, dumping his keys and wallet too, and stormed through his empty home. His footsteps echoed loudly, the only set to be heard as he kept wordlessly yelling.

Little things. Little, stupid, unpreventable things-

-and they just _burned him up._

Rachel found an empty beer bottle on the counter of his kitchen. One that he’d left there overnight, because who was around to give a shit if he left it out? Who gave a flying _fuck_ that he left the house a disaster all the time? _No one,_ _that’s who._

Furious impulse was still driving him, so-

-he snatched the glass bottle up, and without pause, smashed it against the linoleum.

The brown glass scattered everywhere, and Rachel stood panting in the kitchen.

A long moment of blinding anger, and then it fizzled. Rachel was left with a glass filled kitchen and felt nothing for it. Just… tiredness.

Little things. It was always the little things.

Rachel sniffled, and wiped roughly at his nose. Angry tears too. Fantastic.

Rachel reached for a dish cloth off the stove top, and started sweeping a path over the floor so he could get to the broom closet.

 

 

 

To ease the stinging, shrieking, _tearing_ thoughts filling up Rachel’s mind-

-he did the only thing that ever helped.

Rachel stared at the new cut, steadily oozing red. His razor- his favorite one at that- sat placidly on the edge of the tub. The red from the cut on his side bled out into the water, creating a swirling cloud of color.

Rachel stared at his work, feeling no pain. Only peace.

One more mark, to add to all the rest.

He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning his head on the wall behind him. The soft lap of the water as he breathed comforted him, same as the soothing thrum near his ribs. Cuts close to the heart bled so much better than ones that weren’t. He tried to not make every one so close, but the temptation was hard to resist.

Rachel wondered briefly, what his parents would have thought of him. Of what their ‘daughter’ had become.

He wondered if they’d say the same thing Rachel still had echoing in his skull.

_(“Freak.”)_

Probably.

Rachel opened his eyes again, and returned to watching the smoke like trails of blood in the water. Surrounding the cut, the bathwater had turned pink as the welling red slowly dissipated.

Rachel wished he could dissipate too. It seemed painless.

The bleeding slowed to nothing, and then it was just bathwater again. Pinkish in hue, but not as beautiful as the cloud had been.

Rachel moved lazily to dip his razor blade into the water, washing off the evidence of what he’d done. Soon as he pulled the plug, everything would be gone, and no one would know.

No one would have cared anyways. What did it matter?

It didn’t, simple as that.

Rachel sighed, and wondered why he bothered anymore.

Maybe he was just too much of a coward to get it over with.

Rachel’s bathwater slowly went cold, and he finally dragged himself to stand again. The drain took all evidence of his activities from sight, and Rachel washed off the rest.

He dried off carefully, slapped a bandage on the cut, and went to bed.

As he lay down, something crinkled by his ear.

The note. Right.

Rachel rolled off it, and pulled it out to look at it again.

Same words, smudged by time and wear. Same weird feeling, not dulled at all by the distance Rachel had been trying to build.

Same bizarre connection, one Rachel still didn’t want.

Rachel let it drop out of his hand, and onto the bed sheets.

 

 

 

_He stood somewhere, bandaged wrapped feet letting the cold of the stone beneath him seep in. There were bandages around his hands and wrists as well, and the familiar tightness of them comforted him._

_Stars spun by above him, just beyond the fragmented walls circling him slowly. There was no gravity, no air, but he was bothered by neither of those things._

_It was dark, but it was also light. Weeds and scum clung to the shards of concrete floating by; the stone showing its age and wear as it did. Some had children’s drawings on them. Some with detailed paintings instead. They seemed familiar._

_He turned around slowly, looking for where he was supposed to go. A path, extending from the chunk of stone he stood on, reaching to a black door set into a wall._

_He couldn’t look at the door for some reason. Didn’t want to._

_He looked instead out at the stars surrounding him._

_Wreckage of machinery- a space ship, he somehow knew- drifted past just outside his bubble of stone chunks. It was blackened and beyond saving. It made him sad for some reason._

_He glanced back to the door._

_There was only one path to follow. Only one door to open._

_He wasn’t sure if he wanted to._

_He looked down, and found nothingness below him. Just stars and void. Death, solitude, escape._

_He looked back to the door._

_He stepped forwards, drifting over the cold grey stone. His bandaged feet made no sound._

_He reached the door, and lifted a hand towards the handle. He paused._

_He didn’t know if he wanted this. To open the door and face what was hidden on the other side._

_He backed away from the door, beginning to feel unsettled by it. The black lacquer of the door gave no reasons for the unsettled feelings, it only sat there. Unopened, beckoning._

_He glanced back towards the isolated island he’d come from, and saw the path had vanished. The island of rock was drifting away, joining the slowly rotating pieces surrounding the space it’d once been. There was only stars and void now, no way back._

_There was no going back at all._

_He still stepped further away though, heels touching the crumbling stone edge, and hovering just over thin air._

_He could still go back, if only because it meant the end. Nothingness would be so much easier._

_There was no pain in death, not once you were there._

_He was still scared of it though. Of ceasing to exist and no one giving his death any care. Brushing him aside like he’d never been alive at all._

_He teetered on the edge, afraid of the door and afraid of what might happen if he took one… more… step…_

_Then-_

_The door swung inwards, opening without his say. A force of air whooshed past him, sucked inwards to the opening._

_His feet were dragged back from the edge, and he blinked at the sudden stability._

_Someone was in the doorway. Framed by the dark, unknowable space behind the door, someone stood there._

_The boy, Mikey. Still in his hospital garb, but with bandaged hands and feet._

_For some reason, he knew those bandages were identical to his. They were meant for fighting._

_Mikey tilted his head, dark hair sweeping along with the movement. Mikey’s blue eyes stared at him evenly, seeing everything that he’d been about to do._

_Mikey pursed his lips, and shook his head. Disappointed._

“Why are you scared of this?”

_He couldn’t make any sound come out of his throat._

_Mikey seemed saddened by his silence, and shook his head again._

“Why are you scared of _us?”_

_He didn’t know. He didn’t know why at all._

_Mikey held out his hand, pleading._

_He lifted his hand in response, and hesitated._

“Don’t fight this,” _Mikey said. Eyes too knowing and too blue._ “Don’t keep running away. You promised.”

_What had he promised?_

_Before he could force his mute voice to work, the floor crumbled underneath them both. Cracks and fissures appearing over the stone, and dropping them into space as the ground broke apart._

_He felt himself falling, and saw Mikey falling with him._

_Mikey didn’t seem concerned, and kept holding out his hand._

“Just trust me, Ra--”

Rachel gasped, and broke out of his dream.

 

 

 

Rachel stared accusingly at the note, set out on the table in front of him.

His coffee maker trickled away in the background, and the microwave was almost done heating up his instant oatmeal.

The note sat there. Innocent and insidious at the same time.

Rachel growled under his breath, and stared harder at it. Demanding it offer answers.

It offered none, other than the scrawled words already written over it.

Those words taunted Rachel, still confusing even after nearly a month of trying to figure them out.

Fuck. Why couldn’t he just throw it out? It was even invading his dreams now.

“Fuck you,” Rachel muttered at the note.

The note didn’t answer.

Rachel huffed, and leaned back in his chair. Arms crossed and glare in place.

His coffee maker clicked, signalling the end of the brewing time. The microwave chimed right afterwards, Rachel’s breakfast ready to eat.

The note sat on the table, and continued taunting Rachel.

He sighed to himself, and eased out of his glare. The note wasn’t going to offer anymore explanation than it had the first night he’d been given it. It would just sit there and be useless.

Rachel would have to go to its source for actual answers.

Rachel decided to ignore that thought for another moment, and got up to get his food.

Sitting back down, and slowly filling his body with actual nourishment for once, Rachel let the thought come back to the front of his mind.

So. Things were getting ridiculous. The dreams, the unsettling feelings, the _note._

Either Rachel threw it out and forgot the whole thing ever happened, or… he followed the instructions written to him.

Rachel had been trying and failing to throw the note out for weeks now. It didn’t look like that was happening any time soon.

Maybe if he was dead, that’d solve everything.

…nah. Killing himself over this wouldn’t be worth it. If he was going to die, it would be for a better reason than that at least.

Rachel sighed, and then took a sip of his coffee, loaded with cream and sugar.

Well. That left exactly one option then.

Good thing he had a day off today.

 

 

 

Rachel adjusted his hoodie, glancing around nervously.

There were so many other people here. It seemed like the patients in the facility were well loved by the families that had put them there. Plenty of wives and husbands and children milling around in the waiting room, all of them eager to see their relatives.

That hadn’t stopped the nurse at the front desk from giving Rachel a weird look though, when he’d asked to Michael.

“He’s never had a visitor,” She’d said absently, tapping away at her keyboard. “You’ll have to give me a minute to make a visitors file for him.”

Rachel now had a visitor’s pass clipped to his hoodie, and a lot of anxiety over actually having done this. He tapped his fingers restlessly against his knees, keenly aware of the other people around him.

Maybe he should just go home. There was still time to forget the whole idea of being here.

“Rachel?” Someone with a clipboard called out.

Maybe there wasn’t time.

“I’m here,” Rachel replied, standing up from his chair. The male nurse nodded to him, and gestured him towards the doors that led into the visiting room.

Rachel waded through the slightly crowded room, passing the security guards stationed against the wall, and paused in front of the door.

The silver handle, standing out against the white door, waited for him to turn it.

Rachel swallowed. Hesitant again.

He glanced up, looking through the small window set into the door.

Inside the room were tables, all spread across the room. There was a small carpeted area, with couches and children’s toys. For parents to visit with their small kids.

Most of the room was white, and tall windows on the left side filtered warm sun into the room. Patients and their visitors were sat at the tables, some talking quietly, others laughing and smiling together.

Mikey was sitting alone, hands splayed on the table. He seemed to be rhythmically tapping his fingers and palm heels on the table, eyes skittering around the room.

Rachel watched the boy, and noticed that no amount of movement in the room around him went unnoticed. Mikey was aware of all of it. He hadn’t seen Rachel yet, it seemed, but he was watchful of everyone in the room. The moment Rachel walked in, Mikey would know.

Rachel noticed he’d put a hand on the doorknob unconsciously. All that was left now was to turn it.

He just had to open the door, and walk through. Easy.

He tightened his grip on the handle, but still hesitated again.

He didn’t know what would happen if he went in. The note was mysterious, annoyingly so, but that didn’t mean he _had_ to do this. He could just walk away, and pretend he’d never known the names ‘Michelangelo’ or ‘Leonardo’ or ‘Donatello’ at all.

…no, he couldn’t.

He needed answers, and the answer were on the other side of the door.

Rachel sighed, and then steeled himself.

He turned the knob, and pushed the door open.

A soft bubble of noise greeted him, as the waiting room was left behind and he stepped into the visiting area. Voices became more distinct, and the atmosphere of the people inside became clear.

It was warm, filled with happy families reuniting for a brief amount of time. Rachel excluded, of course.

It only took a second, and then Mikey’s keen eyes zeroed in on Rachel.

His mouth dropped open, and his eyes went wide, and-

-he smiled.

Mikey stood up from his table, and his smile was tinted with both disbelief and relief.

“You came back,” He said, and Rachel heard it even across the crowded room. He blinked rapidly; still smiling wide enough it looked like it hurt. “You actually _came back.”_

Rachel wasn’t sure how to react to that, or why Mikey would be so happy to see him.

 _‘i know you’_ , the written words echoed in his mind.

Well, alright then.

Rachel had never had the best sense of self-preservation anyways. He might as well try this, at least once.

Rachel walked across the room cautiously, watching and waiting for Mikey to make a move. Mikey stayed by his table, hands twitching by his sides. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Rachel even once.

Rachel approached the table, and stopped. He stared at Mikey, and Mikey stared back at him.

Mikey’s eyes looked kind of glossy. Oh boy.

Rachel coughed. “So. I’m here.”

“Yeah, yeah you are,” Mikey replied. He sounded like he wasn’t sure if this were real or not. “I can’t believe it. Or… I dunno, I guess I can.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow, but brushed off the weirdness. “So, are you going to give me answer, or are we going to stand here all day? I have things to do.”

“Oh- sure! Yeah, just sit on down and… yeah. Let’s talk.”

They took their seats, and Rachel settled in for… whatever this was shaping up to be.

Mikey was still giving him a weird look. It made Rachel feel scrutinized and exposed, the way he kept looking him over. Rachel _hated it_ when people did that. It felt like they knew.

 _“What?”_ Rachel growled, sudden hostility rising in him.

Mikey didn’t seem to even flinch at Rachel’s tone. He actually smiled fondly instead. “Nothin’. I just missed you is all.”

That threw Rachel for a moment. Both the words and the expression.

“…what?” He asked, cautiously this time.

Mikey smiled a bit wider, and there was an unreadable look in his eyes.

“You’re weirding me out, man,” Rachel said, leaning away from the table.

Mikey shrugged. “I get that a lot. Anyways. You wanna talk or what?”

Rachel briefly considered running away from the table, and putting Mikey and his weirdness behind locked doors again.

But…

The smiling and greeting might’ve been odd, but they didn’t exactly make him uncomfortable. In fact, if anything, they were…

Oh great, more things that were inexplicably familiar for no reason. Wonderful.

“Your explanation for all this had better be a good one,” Rachel said. Threatened.

Mikey grinned, and leaned forwards on one hand. He was still grinning fondly. “Only the best for my bros.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: Raph was listening to an Avril Lavigne CD. hella early 2000's folks, it's the better part of the current music industry.  
> he also listens to MCR, Falloutboy, and other similar artists. you know the types.
> 
> I actually don't have a ton to say here today. hm. oh well.  
> thanks for reading everyone, hope you're still enjoying things.


	11. Chapter 8.5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's always a deeper meaning behind a fake smile.

_Mikey’s chains snapped taunt, and he threw his full weight into the swing as he yanked a collection of Foot bots off their metallic feet. They flew to the side, and knocked over a chunk of the swarm surrounding them all. The resounding crash was a welcome sound._

_Mikey’s grin felt tight and desperate, as the waves of robotic ninjas just kept coming and coming and_ coming-

_“Watch your right!” Donnie yelled over the din, and Mikey didn’t have to check if the warning was meant for him. He veered left, and narrowly avoided a buzzing saw slashed at his side. Donnie’s naginata blade finished the robot before it could attack again, and Mikey shot his brother a brilliant smile as they dove back into the fight._

_Mikey’s shell connected with another, and he instinctively knew it was Raph’s. He spun, ready for the next move he knew was coming, and he got a foot onto Raph’s waiting hands. His brother heaved him into the air, and Mikey spun in a controlled somersault. He threw out his kusarigama as he did, and as he landed, brought down all the tangled Foot bots that he’d caught._

_A snap of his chains, and he reeled them back in as his brothers descended on the downed robots. Mikey’s smile and triumphant laughter halted as yet_ another _wave replaced the ones they’d just destroyed, and his arms felt like they were ready to fall off from the exertion of continuing the fight._

 _There were just so many, and they just kept on coming again and again, and they’d been at this for- Mikey didn’t even know anymore, but it was_ too long-

 _But he dodged around a four armed attack from a sword wielding Foot bot, and kept at it anyways. Just run a little faster, he told himself; catch attacks before they even begin, slice off their arms before they even saw him coming, if they just kept fighting they’d win eventually, there wasn’t any way they could lose, hell to the_ nah-

_Mikey’s skull exploded with pain, as something connected with the base of it, and he heard his brothers’ calls to him as he stumbled and fell under the stampede of black clad figures-_

Mikey woke up, tossing off the light weight holding him down, and immediately pressed himself against the wall. His lungs heaved, and he whipped his eyes from side to side. Something had woken him up, and the bright light of the room was probably what.

Where was he? This wasn’t a rooftop. Where were his brothers? Where were his _weapons?_

Mikey cut off his harried breaths, and slipped into stealth mode. No need to give any signs of openings, let alone legit distress.

He narrowed his eyes at the harsh lights above him, and took stock of the room.

White. Empty. The only sign anyone lived here was the scattered white paper balls on the equally white floor. Mikey’s hands twitched, desperate to feel the reassuring weight of his nunchucks in them. Where was he? Had he been captured? Were his brothers alright-?

The door into the room clicked open, and Mikey went stock still as someone entered. His thoughts raced, but there wasn’t anywhere to hide in the horribly blank and open room, and he couldn’t do anything other than stare at the figure entering.

A human. He was somewhere with humans. And from the looks of her, it was probably a hospital type place. Or, and Mikey’s stomach turned at the thought, it was a _lab._

“Good morning, Michael,” The woman said, giving him a bland smile. “Breakfast time is soon, so you should change into your day clothes quick as you can.”

Mikey glanced at the bundle of clothing in her hands, and repressed a confused grimace. Why would he need clothes? Mutants didn’t wear clothes.

Maybe this was another human thing, trying to make him more ‘decent’ in their eyes. At least he wasn’t being treated like an animal, chained up or in a cage. Yet.

The woman met Mikey’s stare evenly, her bland smile staying in place even as Mikey’s instincts were starting to rile louder and louder. She turned away at last, and went to the bed opposite to the one Mikey was on. “I’ll just leave these here for you, and we’ll pick up your pajamas later,” She said as she turned her back to Mikey- _big mistake-_ and set the pile of clothes on the bed. “Laundry day is today, after all. You’ll be getting some nice clean PJ’s tonight.”

Mikey wasn’t listening to her words, as he reached out to the bedside table and picked up the metal pen there. He felt- _off_ for some reason, and wasn’t sure if he had the strength to pull off a neck twist at the moment. Better to just get her through the throat, disable her completely and cover her mouth until she stopped making noise-

-he needed to get out of here, find his brothers, figure out where the hell these people had taken them and _why-_

-and as Mikey ghosted across the floor, ignoring the words still coming from the human, he raised the pen and-

-wait, whose hand was that?

Five fingers. Five tan fingers were wrapped around the pen.

Wait.

_Wait wait wait wait-_

Mikey jumped backwards, still silent as he did, just as the- not human because _he was human too_ \- _nurse_ turned around. Her bland smile was still in place, and he automatically brought one onto his own face.

“Are you alright, Michael?” She asked.

Mikey clenched his hands- _which were wrong, too small, too many fingers on them-_ and he grinned brilliantly.

“I’m fine! Just my brain catching up with bein’ awake is all,” Mikey replied brightly.

The nurse shook her head, and head back towards the door. “Your pills are outside, so get dressed and come get in line. You’ve got another visitor today, and we wouldn’t want you to miss that.”

Right. Raph was coming. They’d scheduled things so that everyone could be present, and they’d all finally be able to hear from Mikey what this was all about, who they all were and what they were to one another-

Mikey swallowed the nervous bile in his throat, and hid the pen behind his back. “I’ll be right out, no worries!”

The nurse nodded at him, and didn’t seem to notice how sickly fake his cheer was.

Mikey’s heart continued thudding in his ears as she left, and his skin crawled as he slowly familiarized himself with himself. His current self.

Thin and weaker and definitely, _definitely_ human. Not a mutant. Unfortunately.

 _Blah,_ nightmares were the worst. And it didn’t matter where or when he took a snooze, he’d get them as soon as he hit REM sleep. Sometimes he wished he was an insomniac like Donnie had been/still was, because while he loved napping, it wasn’t exactly fun once he slipped into dreaming sleep.

Mostly, he’d like it if his brain would stop forgetting where and when and who he was. Any time now would be nice. He couldn’t afford to put another tick on his record, and possibly end up being banned from visitors. Mikey was pretty sure he wouldn’t react well to being forced apart from his brothers, not again.

It’d been hard enough as it was, to let Raph walk back out of the asylum doors. Mikey had very, very nearly broken through the precautions keeping the patients inside, and run after his brother. Ladybod or not, that was _Raph,_ and Mikey was sick of being kept apart from his family.

And Raph didn’t seem okay. At all. He’d had dark circles under his eyes, and while Mikey wasn’t an expert at reading people, he knew complete exhaustion when he saw it. Whatever life Raph had ended up living, Mikey had a sinking feeling that it wasn’t a healthy one. Or a happy one, either. And if there was one thing he knew, if- _when_ he figured out why Raph was so unhappy, he do anything to fix it, and if he found out that the cause of that unhappiness was a _person…_

Mikey wasn’t sure if he could take knowing that another one of his brothers had been hurt like that, and not snap. Leo’s past already made Mikey’s anger bubble and roil, and Donnie’s brought iron tasting hate up his throat and it took _hours_ to shove the fury aside. If Raph was going through something similar, being exposed to someone or someones who were doing anything close to what had been done to Leo and Donnie, _Mikey was going to-_

Mikey realized his hand was starting to hurt; clenching the pen tight enough its hook was pinching his skin.

He slowly uncurled his fist, and dropped the pen onto his bed. He’d been allowed it on good behavior, as well as the papers scattered across the floor of his room. Mostly, the words on the papers were him trying to figure out how to word his revelation, and so far… he’d gone through a lot of paper.

Show time, though. Today was the big day and while his stomach was already tying itself in knots, Mikey would pull on his game face anyways.

Mikey slapped his cheeks a few times, and tugged hard at his hair. There we go, all better! He could totally do this now, no problem at all!

He shucked off his clothes, which sometimes were fun, but mostly felt itchy, and picked up the fresh ones from the other bed. He heard other people outside coming from their rooms, the individual doors up and down the hall making noise as they emerged.

Mikey tugged his shirt down and over his curls, and kicked his old pajamas under the bed just to spite the nurses. He grabbed the carefully folded paper off his side table, the only piece he’d deemed to have the best bullet points to cover, and shoved it into his pants pocket.

Mikey took a deep breath, pulled his hair out of his face, and walked out the door.

Time to face the music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....mikey isn't exactly okay either, you see. 
> 
> you can't go to war and come out unscathed. no one can.


	12. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, this fic now has cover art!! go back to the first chapter to check it out, i love it a lot and think you guys will too!
> 
> trigger warning for the latter half of the chapter: suicidal thoughts and suicidal ideation, with a smattering of graphic imagery. please be warned and take care of yourselves!!!

Leo’s head felt fuzzy, the conversation of other visitor tables buzzing through the air and making it hard to concentrate. That wasn’t abnormal, though. He’d been drifting around and feeling lightheaded for weeks now, only really anchored by Mikey’s, and then Donnie’s, presences.

He wasn’t ever entirely sure if he was following conversations right, but hey. At least he wasn’t hurting his friends.

He’d keep taking the pills and appointments forever, so long as he got to keep the two of them. _Especially_ now that Mikey had revealed that the three of them were something more than that.

No, not the three of them. There were four of them now.

Leo had only briefly glimpsed her during the party, weeks back, but she’d stood out just as much as Mikey and Donnie did to him. Leo just… felt an immediate draw, and even through the throngs of people blocking the view, he’d watched her with clarity and focus he couldn’t muster often anymore.

And now she was here, sitting at the same table as him while they waited for Donnie and Mikey.

Leo had absolutely no idea what to say.

She had her arms crossed, slouching in one of the four chairs at their table. A thick hoodie emblazoned with some school Leo didn’t know obscured most of her figure, and her bright red hair splayed freely over her broad shoulders. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, but Leo did spot an assortment of studs and piercings in each of her ears.

She had a suspicious yet vaguely annoyed expression, and didn’t seem particular happy to be in the institute. All in all, she seemed like the sort of person who wouldn’t give anyone the time of day unless she felt like it, and Leo 100% had no clue how to start a conversation with her.

Or what her name was. Because Mikey was as cagey as he was random, and in his whirlwind recap of talking to this person, he had failed to mention her original name _or_ her current one. Leo might have also forgotten to _ask_ what her name was, but still. _Dammnit, Mikey._

“So, uh,” Leo choked out, desperate to alleviate the awkwardness of everything. “How’re you?”

The girl turned her narrowed eyes onto Leo, and Leo did his best impression of a statue. “…fine, I guess,” She answered in a gravelly voice, making no effort to raise it or give much inflection. “Which one are you, again?”

“Uh, I’m Leo,” Leo answered. Then he squared his courage- and his social awkwardness- and asked, “I didn’t catch yours?”

“Mike didn’t tell you?” She asked back. And maybe because Leo was visibly wincing, she rolled her eyes and supplied an answer. “Rachel,” She said shortly, and then didn’t provide any other identifying information. Instead just asking, “So where are the other two? We don’t all have endless free time.”

Leo didn’t argue that he in fact had a therapy appointment in a few hours. Saying so would probably put Rachel even more off sitting through this with them. “I think Mikey’s just coaxing Donnie out of, uh, the washroom or something,” Leo said, trying to make Donnie’s unwillingness to enter the visiting room less… weird. “They shouldn’t be much longer, though.”

“Hmph,” Rachel grumbled, glancing away from Leo and again, and seeming done with their conversation. Leo fidgeted with his nails, picking at the small amount of dirt under them from spending time in the courtyard.

Silence between them fell again, and Leo internally berated his poor socialization skills.

He glanced at Rachel, subtly looking her over again. Along with seeming like the sort of person he wouldn’t ever talk to, Rachel also seemed… really tired. The black circles under her eyes made her gaze seem a whole lot more intimidating, and very unapproachable.

Leo felt a bubble of concern appear in his chest, even though he knew next to nothing about Rachel or the life she led. “Are you not sleeping okay?” Leo blurted before he could stop himself.

Rachel gave him a weirded-out look, and raised an eyebrow. Leo regretted existing. Oh god why were people so hard to talk to sometimes. All the time. Oh god.

“Sorry, uh,” Leo’s cheeks felt hot, and he hunched his shoulders. “Sorry.”

Rachel kept giving him a weird look for a minute longer, and then shrugged. “…it’s insomnia,” She said, finally. “Don’t sleep much, or I sleep too much. It’s whatever.”

“Oh.” Leo mumbled, feeling awkward and invasive. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, kinda does,” Rachel replied, and then didn’t say anything else. Leo prayed Mikey and Donnie would appear soon, or that the ceiling would spontaneously fall on him.

And- thank god- they did, in the most noisy and chaotic manner possible. Mostly because Donnie was still saying something in a half shout, when Mikey essentially _kicked_ the door inwards with enough force it smacked against the door stop with a loud _thwack._

The two of them stood there, more than half the eyes in the room turned on them. Mikey grinned. Donnie looked ill.

“Holy shit,” Rachel said, looking neither impressed nor shocked.

Leo sank a little lower in his chair. Yeah, he could see where this was going already. He needed to stop getting immediately attached to people, since he knew that eventually they’d leave. Either because of him, (usually because of him), or because of his… well, _very_ odd friends.

But Rachel was different! She couldn’t leave, not since Mikey had revealed to her that they all used to know one another, and then forgot. Leo had to believe that she also felt the pull that was drawing them all together. After all, it’d been weeks since he last saw her, and she’d come back regardless.

There had to be something to that, there _had_ to be.

Mikey flounced over to the table, completely ignoring the looks he and Donnie got as they made their way through the room. While Mikey nearly skipped, Donnie shied away from the few occupied tables around them, and continued to look like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Donnie’s anxiety hadn’t improved at all, really. Any more than Leo’s had. Donnie still stubbornly refused to touch, or sometimes even speak, and it made all sorts of flippy emotions appear in Leo’s chest when he did that. At least Mikey didn’t make Leo worry. Out of all of them, excluding Rachel, who obviously had a life that was _normal_ , Mikey was the most functional member of their group. That was one plus to things.

Mikey was, however, still currently confined to a mental institution, and that said a few things about their group if Leo thought of the boy as ‘functional’.

“Sorry for taking so long,” Mikey apologized as he sat down, still grinning widely. “Donnie just needed a second to get his shit together.”

Donnie muttered something quiet and furious in Chinese, giving Rachel a suspicious side eye. Rachel either didn’t notice the looks, or didn’t feel like acknowledging them. The latter seemed more likely. Donnie settled down though, pushing his glasses up and sliding into his chair with a huff.

Well, that was better than Donnie outright refusing to sit through the conversation. Leo knew the other boy was as curious as he was about things- if not more- but Donnie was also extremely stubborn about social contact. It’d taken weeks for them to become friends, after all, and Rachel was a total newcomer to their group. Donnie probably didn’t trust her at all.

Leo hoped Donnie would eventually open up better, and maybe even form a semblance of a friendship with Rachel, like he had with Mikey and Leo. Leo wasn’t entirely sure where they near desperate need came from, to have their group become closer like that, but it was there and Leo was honestly just rolling with things now. Thinking deeply on things required more concentration than he had at the moment, and he was in no way going to turn down the prospect of _three_ friends, especially if said three friends were also friends with each other.

Leo realized he sounded desperate, thinking of three people as a large social group, and wanting said social group as badly as he did. But then, he’d been so _lonely_ before Mikey and Donnie. Desperation was just a thing now, and there wasn’t much he could do about it.

Rachel was the first to speak, or the first one to speak that drew Leo’s wandering thoughts back to present. “So,” She said, turning her eyes on Mikey. “You gonna come clean or what. I had to trade shifts to be here, and I have other things I could be doing. We don’t have all day.”

Mikey smiled, then his smile shrank a bit, and he made an awkward sound under his breath. “Yeah, uh, about that?” Mikey splayed his hands in a _‘what are you gonna do?’_ gesture. “Still working on how to phrase this without sounding crazy. Whoops.”

“You look around lately?” Rachel said dryly. “Everything you say is going to sound crazy. Just like on Monday, and in the note, and probably everything else that’s ever come out of your mouth.”

Donnie made a hoarse cough into his fist, and it sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Leo raised his eyebrows in gentle surprise. Donnie was laughing, and he’d known Rachel for maybe a minute. Huh. Kudos to Rachel for getting that far that fast.

Or maybe that was just Donnie’s nihilistic humor popping up again. Hopefully both? Or, wait, not hopefully. Some of the things Donnie said, or muttered angrily, were often kind of frightening to hear. Leo didn’t really get the appeal of such dark jokes, but if it made Donnie at least a little less anxious…

Wait, he was supposed to be focusing. What was happening now?

“The beginning is usually a good place to start,” Donnie said in a tight, low voice. Leo didn’t need to glance under the table to know Donnie was picking at his shirt hem again; pulling stitch threads so they came undone. It was just one of the many ticks he’d started picking up on between Donnie and Mikey; little things they did when they talked, or got nervous, or were trying to distract themselves. He vaguely wondered if Rachel did things like that.

Augh, drifting again. Focus! Fo- _cus!_

“Yeah that’s… difficult to explain, too,” Mikey said, reaching up and tugging at one of his curls. He pulled it apart into frizz as he stared off thoughtfully. “Basically everything is hard to explain. You know, off topic here,” Mikey released his curls, and left them to float back to his mop of hair. “I kind of really wish Leo, or Donnie, or heck, even you Ra- Rachel had been to remember all this junk. I am not the factual storyteller guy; I’m, like, the BS machine extraordinaire. This is the opposite of what I’m good at. Just saying that before anything else.”

“Color me surprised,” Rachel said in a not-impressed tone. Donnie made a huff in what seemed to be agreement.

Mikey stuck his tongue out, and then sighed loudly. He pulled a scrap of paper out of nowhere, and unfolded the crumpled ball. “Okay, so I made a list of things the last two days we should probably cover before Ra-Rachel’s gotta leave, buuuut I am also seeing now that they’re all really useless,” Mikey crumpled the ball back up, and tossed it carelessly over his shoulder. It hit the back of a man’s head, and Mikey blithely didn’t notice the visitor turning to give a glare at their table. Mikey reaffirmed his earlier smile, and clapped his hands together. “So, recap, I told you all we used to know each other and then you three forgot, that there’s another couple folks we’re missing, and that we’re actually all super close, right?”

Leo nodded along, while Donnie and Rachel gave shrugs or grunts. Honestly, the two of them were fairly similar, and seemed more so the longer Leo watched them in the same space. Interesting.

“Cool, glad we’re all on the same page,” Mikey took a deep breath, and then leaned forwards. Unconsciously, Leo did the same, and saw that Donnie and Rachel inched closer as well. They were all waiting for Mikey’s next words.

“I’m getting the sense here that not sounding crazy is mostly pointless, and me bothering to try sounding sane probs won’t work anymore than it ever has, so I guess it’s whatever at this point. Go big or home. Anyway…. here’s the thing…” Mikey said at a lower volume, glancing around at them all. “We were all brothers in another life.”

Immediately, Donnie and Rachel narrowed their eyes.  “Oh my god,” Rachel muttered under her breath, total disbelief in her voice. Donnie looked like he was questioning his life choices. Mikey ignored them both and kept going anyways.

“We lived our dad, who was this old ninja master guy from a mostly murdered clan because of an old blood feud- I’ll get to that later, it’s, uh, kind really shitty and probably what caused all this forgetting stuff- and we were adopted by him when we were just babies. He changed his name and decided to raise us as really rad ninjas because for one that’s really fuckin’ cool, and for two we kind of needed those skills just to stay _alive_ most days, once we got older. Uh, we also grew up with literally no one besides him and each other, and didn’t make any friends until we went to the surface alone when we turned fifteen- we lived in a sewer, you see,” Mikey explained with an offhand wave. “Stank really bad sometimes, but Donnie fixed that mostly. Anyways, we met April, and then it turned out she was involved in a big scary alien conspiracy, and the aliens dadnapped her dad, and we spent, like, a solid year trying to get the guy back, and then we did but then we lost him sort of again, and then we got _Casey_  involved with things and that just made everything more complicated than it needed to be, like, _niiiiinety_ percent of the time or whatever,” Mikey paused, glancing up at the ceiling as he thought. “Um. Before that stuff but also during it we got involved in that blood feud our dad started with this nasty motherfucker named _Shredder_ \- you all hated him much as I did, trust me- and then there were ninja wars and near death experiences and Leo ended up in a _coma_ one time which sucked, and… uh… we went to space at one point? In a spaceship and everything. The world got destroyed around then, too. Also time travel shenanigans were involved, which is how we fixed the world from being sucked into a black hole, and that was even nuttier than it sounds. And before _that_ time travelling nonsense there was another one where we actually helped ensure our timeline existed by making sure dad and Shredder did their big showdown, and also met our half-sister Karai when she was still Miwa instead, like waaaaaay back in time before we restarted the blood feud slash were old enough to be involved in said blood feud, and nearly destroyed our existence in the process. There were a lot of other really important adventures and mishaps along the way to the end point that I can remember, but those ones are the ones I feel like were most important. Mostly because they were the ones that decided if we kept on, you know, living and junk.

“Oh, and we were these giant mutated turtles from a pet shop Splinter bought us in, when he was still human,” Mikey said, like an afterthought. “He got turned into a giant ratman after that- during that? Whatever- and then kept us around as his sons. And he named us Michelangelo-” Mikey pointed at himself. “-Leonardo-” Mikey pointed at Leo. “-Donatello-” He pointed at Donnie. “-and Raphael.” He finished, pointing at Rachel. “Because his dead wife had a thing for renaissance artists.”

“…you mean Raphaella,” Donnie corrected in a distant voice. Rachel stiffened as he did.

“Nah,” Mikey said, shrugging. “I mean Raphael. Dunno why, but Rach here was a boy last time around, and not in, uh, this life? Something like that? Weeeeeird shit happens to us a lot, so this isn’t too big of a surprise. But, um, I guess me being the only one to remember is a little weirder than normal?” Mikey’s smile slipped a bit, before he pulled it back together. “But hey! We’re all back together, so what does that matter? We’ll just figure out how to get your memories back later or something.” Mikey then sighed, and slumped in his chair. “Phew, glad to get that all out. It’s been driving me _crazy_ not telling you guys about everything.”

There was a long pause, following Mikey’s apparent end to his explanation, during which only the conversations flowing around them were heard. They all just… stared, at Mikey. Processing.

Then Donnie removed his glasses slowly, and started cleaning the lenses with his white shirt. “Well,” He said in a still distant voice. “It’s nice of you to finally reveal exactly why you’re here. An utterly deluded pathological liar, I should have known.”

“On that note,” Rachel added, standing up from her chair. “I’m leaving. Have fun being insane, I won’t let the door hit me on the way out.”

“What?! No, Raph you _can’t_ leave-” Mikey lunged across the table, fingers narrowly missing the edge of Rachel’s hoodie as he did. “No!! We’re all finally _together,_ you can’t, _you can’t-!”_ Rachel jerked out of range, giving Mikey an offended look, and Donnie yelped something Leo couldn’t catch as he tried to also get out of flailing range. “C’mon- I _know_ it sounds insane, but I’m telling the truth, you have to believe me!!”

“I don’t have to believe anything!” Rachel exclaimed, tripping over her chair in her effort to get away. Mikey just scrambled onto the table and kept chasing her, causing Donnie to make panicked squawks as the table wobbled ominously, and oh the security guards were heading towards them already, and they’d been here for maybe _five minutes._

Leo sat in his chair, more or less in shock, as the security guards tried to intervene between Mikey and Rachel and Donnie’s threeway yelling-cursing-begging flailtangle. The chaos kept ramping up, _especially_ once security tried to grab Donnie’s shoulder, starting Donnie immediate reaction of panic x10 at being touched, and Mikey attempting to get the guard off Donnie while still stubbornly clutching hold of Rachel’s straining hoodie as she tried to get away, Rachel darting furiously embarrassed looks at every staring eye in the room, which was basically everyone and their grandmother, and Leo-

Leo sat in his chair, and let the feeling of _rightness_ settle into his chest.

And he thought _oh, this sounds familiar. It sounds… real._

“I believe you, Mikey,” Leo spoke up, over the clamor of their group and the guards. Mikey’s head whipped around towards Leo, causing the table to wobble under his weight again. Mikey stared at him with wide, desperately hopeful eyes, and said, “Really?”

Leo nodded, still testing the feeling of firm and resolute truth he felt from Mikey’s explanation. But also- “Wasn’t that the same explanation you gave me, um, a few weeks back?” Leo asked. “One you said was a… joke?”

Mikey shrugged nonchalantly, despite the fact that a guard was attempting to pull him off the table. “Yeah, I left a lot out back then, and kinda was joking a little. I was mostly to just calm you down, so maybe that’s why you didn’t believe me,” Mikey didn’t stop talking, even as he was pulled back onto ground level. “Or maybe it’s ‘cause Raph and Donnie weren’t here? Mystical reincarnation requirements or something, probably. Such bull.”

“Sir, please do not climb the tables,” The guard holding onto Mikey said in a tired voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mikey replied flippantly. He pulled at the arms around him. “Now leggo, we’re still talking, dammnit. Also, hands _off-_ ” Mikey jabbed a finger at the guard closest to Donnie, voice taking on a different tone. One that was sharper and serious. “-my bro. Seriously, he is not down with that, and it’d be great if you laid the hell off. Now.”

The two guards exchanged looks. Tired, put upon looks. The closest to Donnie removed her hand from Donnie’s jittering shoulder, and the other released Mikey from his lock hold.

“If you can’t keep your conversation to a quiet level, we’ll have to revoke your visiting hours,” The female guard said in a clipped tone, obviously repeating words she’d said a hundred times. “Also, please refrain from climbing the tables and chairs. Or overturning them. Doing so will also get your visiting hours revoked.”

Mikey saluted her with a quick wave, apparently unbothered by the stares still surrounding them. The ones Leo was just really noticing- his medication really did wonders for her awareness- and starting to shrink under. “Read you loud and clear,” Mikey said in a- probably- serious tone. “We’ll be good. Sorry for the ruckus, we were just sorting out a disagreement.”

The two guards glanced over at Rachel, who was straightening her hoodie and still blushing a dark red. The man and woman seemed to be silently asking her to confirm Mikey’s explanation, since she was the sane member of their group and their visitor.

“Yeah. Just a disagreement,” Rachel said eventually, ducking her head. “Sorry. We won’t let things get out of hand again.”

That seemed to be enough for the guards, and they nodded and left. Or maybe they just weren’t paid enough to really care until there was bodily injury happening. Once the security guards left, the rest of the room slowly stopped watching their table, and went back to their individual conversations. With the regular flow of the room restored, everyone except Leo returned to their seats. Rachel rightened hers, Mikey following her example, and Donnie hunched over in his, beginning to make high pitched wheezing sounds.

Mikey leaned sideways, looking under the table at where Donnie was. “You okay, Dee?” Mikey asked, hair flopping at an angle as he watched Donnie hyperventilate. “You need a break or somethin’? Water? Tea? Cake? Kidding, we don’t have those. Just water and breaks.”

 “Jesus,” Rachel muttered, giving Donnie a weirded-out look. “What’s his damage?”

Donnie raised one hand above the table, and promptly flipped them all off. He then lowered it and went back to breathing with increasingly wheezy breaths.

Rachel grimaced at them all, seeming regretful for ever sitting down at their table. “You’re all insane,” Rachel said without even trying to soften the words. “Seriously. What the hell is wrong with you people?”

“A lot of things,” Mikey said with a wave of his hand. He seemed unrepentant to the confusion he was inspiring. “But anyways, you got your explanation same as everyone else, and I promise you every word was true. Also, we should take a break now while Donnie takes five and I find some water for him. Brb.”

Mikey got out of his chair before anyone could stop him, and went jogging off towards the small refreshment table of crackers and water was. That left Leo, Rachel, and a still hyperventilating Donnie at the table.

Rachel turned a truly offended look at Leo, accusing him of something with her eyes. “You believe all that shit?” She asked. And when Leo shrugged, she asked, “And how are you so fucking calm about all this?”

Leo scratched the back of his neck, feeling a mix of awkwardness and resignation and trust swirl around in him. “Honestly, I wish I could say it was because I’m just that sort of person, but it’s more likely because I’m so heavily medicated that I can’t be anything _other_ than calm.”

Rachel gave him another offended, disbelieving look, and then pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know what? Forget I asked.”

Donnie muttered something low and harsh in Chinese, muffled slightly since he was still mostly under the table. Leo got the intent, though. Neither Donnie nor Rachel believed Mikey, but that was fair. A part of Leo exclaimed that the story was just that; a story, made up by a kid who wasn’t quite fully attached to reality.

However, a much larger part of Leo exclaimed even more stubbornly that it _was_ true, and the lonely parts of him backed that feeling up. It made no sense, but it also made total sense. Like a missing puzzle piece, falling into place where a big blank spot had been.

There were still a lot of missing puzzle pieces, but it was a start. And while the more sensible portions of Leo’s brain reminded him there was a very good chance Mikey was just making up stories, Leo honestly just didn’t care. He’d never had this many people as friends before, and never let himself get so attached so quickly. And…

The idea of family, of _brothers,_ resonated deeply with him. The idea of having three brothers- and a _father-_ was something Leo wanted so badly he could taste it. Not only did it feel right, but it made a deep gulf of _wanting_ open in his chest. His birth family hadn’t wanted him- _(with good reason, they got rid of him while they could)-_ but now he had a chance at another one. One with Mikey, who wasn’t afraid of him, and Donnie, who tolerated him, more than anyone else had, and now… Rachel, too, as intimidating and standoffish as she was.

Leo had known for a while now, but he just hadn’t thought it consciously. It didn’t really matter if what Mikey was telling them was true or not, Leo would believe it anyways. Even if it was all a grand, complicated lie, it was more than what he’d had before Mikey, and it was something he’d cling to without remorse or shame.

Leo smiled to himself, and felt content with how things were playing out.

Rachel gave him a frustrated look for the easy smile Leo was wearing. “You’re honestly not freaked out even a little?” She questioned again. “Because I’m hard to shake, and I am _shook_ right now.”

“Drugs will do that to you,” Leo said, ignoring his twinge of embarrassment about that.

 _“This is all a bad dream and I’m going to wake up in my closet surrounded by energy drinks and twinkie packages any moment now,”_ Donnie said in a muffled voice, mostly in a whimper. _“Oh god oh god this is just one big nightmare and I just overdosed again. None of its real, none of you are real, and I’m not real. The void has taken me and all my sanity. I submit, please just kill me already.”_

He trailed off into Chinese again, and Leo felt deep sympathy for Donnie’s ongoing existential crisis. If he hadn’t had his medication, Leo felt he would be at least partially heading that way himself.

“So, what did you and Mikey talk about that convinced you to meet with us?” Leo asked conversationally, feeling emboldened by the fiasco their talk had become. Mikey was the undisputed king of weird, awkward-for-everyone-except-him conversations; Leo could probably just fumble along with his own attempts and not even come close to Mikey’s level.

Rachel gave Leo a long stare, obviously wanting to ask again how Leo was handling everything so calmly. Then she shut her eyes, opened them again, and said, “He told me every single one of my hobbies, in order of favorite to least favorite, my preferred foods and how I make them, and then answered before I could ask about how many loose screws were between his ears. Word for word, my whole question, before I even got it out.” Rachel gave Leo a haunted look. “It was fucking terrifying.”

Leo laughed. “Yeah, Mikey has that effect on people when he first meets them. You should have seen Donnie’s face when Mikey started listing off different computer parts he’s named over the years.”

Donnie’s responding _“I’ll throw myself out the window if he does that again”_ was a sign that he was mostly past his panic attack now, and on the way to being able sit up and glare at everyone again. Rachel just gave Leo and Donnie both a deeply troubled look, and seemed to have become resigned to what was happening to her. Leo just felt happy; this was the most coherent he’d felt in weeks, and he was managing to look… well, not normal, but definitely less abnormal than Mikey was. Which wasn’t hard, but certainly a step in the right direction for things!

“How high are you, right now?” Rachel asked Leo, giving him another grimace for Leo’s continued smiling.

“Very,” Leo said pleasantly.

“…how likely is it that you could get me some of that stuff?”

Rachel’s half-serious sounding words only made more laughter bubble up in Leo’s chest. It was a pretty good feeling.

 

 

 

Nine times out of ten, Rachel regretted waking up in the morning. Today just happened to be a ten out of ten sort of regret. All because. Of. _Mikey._

It wasn’t just that he sounded insane- more insane than he had, rambling in circles about private things _only Rachel knew-_ oh no, it was that the longer he talked, and the more insane it sounded, the more _truthful_ it seemed.

Fuck. Everything. By the time Mikey had finished causing the most embarrassing moment in Rachel’s life- _(not true, there was one worse)-_ Rachel was still highly tempted to just cut his losses and forget the whole experience ever happened.

Cut his losses. Ha ha. Funny.

But, for whatever reason- probably the same bullshit reason that’d dragged him back into the circle of crazy things were becoming- when the security guards had given him a clear _“This guy telling the truth?”_ look, Rachel had swallowed his roiling, scared confusion, and backed Mikey up.

And then he’d sat at the table, waiting for the ringmaster of their four man circus of insanity, to return. Processing things slowly, while Smiley McDrughappy Leo smiled at nothing and Donnie the Amazing Anxiety Man continued to freak out under the table. And Rachel, being the slow, shocked idiot he was, finally got his brain to catch up all the way with things.

Raphael. Just a name he’d heard a hundred times through high school art classes, and yet, with Mikey being the one to say it, it sounded different. Like it carried worth and weight and _meaning_ it hadn’t before. And with all of those things aimed at and applying to… Rachel.

What the fucking _fuck_ was going on here? Reincarnation _bull_ indeed; this was getting more confusing by the second, the longer Rachel sat in the company of _admitted and diagnosed crackpots._ A story about past lives and ninjas and aliens and _mutant turtles_ was like a triple tiered cake of pure and utter insanity, and Rachel was letting Mikey shove a heaping serving right onto his plate, just sitting here and taking it.

And yet- _and fucking yet_ \- he couldn’t make himself stand up and walk away. Rachel just sat there, processing and miring in the made up sounding story Mikey had dumped on them all. Listening to Donnie gasp and mutter to himself, while Leo started daydreaming in front of them all. Both of them, clearly missing important screws in their heads, and yet Rachel wasn’t booking it away from them.

Raphael. Used to be a boy. Those things kept circling Rachel’s mind. He’d turn them around over and over, pull the exact words Mikey had used apart and then stick them back together, trying to make sense of them and failing.

_“…you mean Raphaella.”_

_“Nah. I mean Raphael.”_

Rachel felt like something had looped around his lungs, and was strangling the air out of them. Slowly. Painfully. Mercilessly. He was so fucked. Like, how the hell- how had Mikey _known?_ Rachel never gave any hints, never so much as _thought_ about his… less than conforming gender perspective.

This was so much worse than Mikey knowing Rachel’s hobbies. This was defcon four type shit; lock the blast shutters and wait for the nuclear war to end sort of deal. _How did Mikey know?!_

Did either Donnie or Leo suspect? Did they think it was weird that his original name- oh fuck he was thinking of it as _his_ name already- was a guy’s, and Rachel was, well, obviously not someone with a penis between their legs??

He should not have gotten out of bed. He should have stayed home and gone on with his blissfully miserable life without ever considering the idea of past lives or past names or anyone _ever_ finding out his secret. _Fuck. This._

Rachel still didn’t manage to get up and leave. Dammnit.

Rachel was solidly into silent panicking territory by the time Donnie finished _his_ less-than-silent panicking, and Mikey was returning with four cups of precariously balanced water for them all. How he hadn’t dropped one on some poor sucker’s head along the way, Rachel did not know and did not care. Mikey was grinning at them all like he hadn’t just taken all their heads and given them a mind bender of legend. The sight made Rachel mad, but also _really fucking suspicious,_ because Mikey _knew_ and he could do _anything_ with that information.

He could expose Rachel.

_Fuck._

No. No, wait. Why did Rachel give a shit? Donnie and Leo and Mikey couldn’t do _jack_ to Rachel while they were in here. Rachel could pick up and leave and never acknowledge their collective existences ever again; Mikey didn’t have shit on him and Rachel could work with that.

Panic attack averted, even if a high pitched whine of anxiety still pulsed in the back of Rachel’s head. Good job him; he wasn’t going to have an idiotic meltdown like Donnie had over absolutely nothing. It was just words, said by a completely dubious source. Rachel could cope. He could do this.

“Alright, one for Leo-” Mikey said, sliding a cup towards a still dazing Leo. “-one for Donnie-” he slid another towards the now mostly recovered Asian kid. “-and one for Raph!”

Rachel caught his before it could tip over the edge into his lap, and tried to not feel like there was a stupidly obvious noose around his neck. “Don’t call me that,” Rachel said, trying to not sound like a scared idiot. “Don’t. It’s not my name.”

Mikey’s smile did a weird waver- like it was fighting him, momentarily- then it went back to its usual level of freaky brightness. “Oh, uh, sure!” Mikey said, and Rachel caught an edge of force to his words. “Whatever you say, um, Rachel.”

Rachel turned his eyes away from Mikey and the tinge of pain in the teen’s expression. He instead chose to look at his cup of generic water, which caused considerably less twinges to Rachel’s stomach.

Maybe Donnie had the right idea. Tossing himself out the window sounded fucking brilliant at this point. Crack his skull open and let all the swirling confusion bleed out along with his brain matter. Great plan. He’d use that as a plan B if he couldn’t get his legs to carry him out the door, like any sensible person would have by now.

Rachel still. Didn’t. Stand up. And walk the fuck away.

Uuuuuugh, fuck his survival instincts, apparently. They weren’t worth anything. Where were those mystical Indian survival skills white people always talked about? He would’ve really appreciated them rearing their totally-fake heads right then.

“So, now what?” Mikey asked, bringing everyone’s attention right back to him, like he always did. When no one answered, staring at him with varying levels of disbelief or baited breath- Leo was hanging on the kid’s every word, the poor drugged fuck- Mikey grimaced a bit. “Seriously, I said my starter bit. You three gotta prompt me on where to go next.”

“Oh, that was just the _starter_ bit?” Donnie said acidly. He wasn’t drinking his water, just holding it in his thin, skeletal hands. “Wonderful, we’ve only just begun and I’ve already had a near break down. Beautiful. Consider my daily meter of bullshit maxed out, then.” Donnie gestured at Mikey sharply, nearly spilling his water as he did. “You could, I don’t know, go back and explain a little more clearly and _sanely_ about just what the hell you’re trying to pass off as the truth, here?!”

Apparently anxiety man was less anxiously quiet when he was pissed. Huh. Kudos to Donnie for saying everything- almost, at least- that Rachel had wanted to spit out.

Oh no. He just agreed with the hyper anxious, mentally unsound kid. _Fuuuuuck._

Rachel covered up his unspoken agreement with Donnie, by mentally shoving it far, far back with everything else he’d rather not think about. “I’d like a better explanation, too,” Rachel added onto Donnie’s statement, trying to not sound _too_ agreeable. “You basically just info dumped on us with zero context or coherency. Try again.”

Mikey scratched his nose, seeming a little confused. “I thought me saying ‘we were brothers in another life’ was context enough, but okay. If you want. Where do you want me to start, then?”

“The _beginning,”_ Donnie said a desperate, tight voice. Ah, there was the edging panic attack again. Donnie seemed to sound like that a lot. “And then- another great idea- the _ending,_ where we all apparently transcended universes and lives to become _human,_ and reincarnate without our memories. Except you, obviously. Because of _course.”_

“Hey, I didn’t want to be the only one who remembers,” Mikey said with a hurt frown. “I don’t know what happened with all of you guys, but I really wish one of you three had gotten all this junk. Leo would’ve done way better than me.”

“Who, me?” Leo questioned, pointing at himself. He seemed a little queasy at the notion of responsibility. “Oh no, no, no. I wouldn’t- I’d never- no. Just no. Uh, sorry, Mikey.”

Mikey sighed, leaning on his palm against the table. “Yeah, I know, Leo. It’s cool. We just got me, and that’s what we have to work with here. Oh well. Where were we? Oh yeah, beginning and ending. Well, for starters, I don’t remember squat about why we died.”

Donnie let loose a long string of Chinese, and Rachel definitely caught a couple English swear words mixed in. Impressive.

“Jeez, Don, keep your hat on,” Mikey said petulantly, rolling his eyes. “I can’t do anything about that, and you cussing me out isn’t going to help.” He ignored Donnie’s continued muttering. “But anyways, while I don’t remember the ending, I got lots of earlier memories. Pretty much my whole life, actually, and you guys’ too. Growing up in the NYC sewers slash train tunnels, training with our Sensei, being teenagers saving the world, etcetera. Which part do you want to know about?”

“Mutant. Turtles.” Rachel ground out, feeling ridiculous.

Mikey nodded, like that was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask about. “We weren’t always mutants, you see. We used to just be pets, wee baby turtle pets, and then we got doused in this mutagen junk that came from a different dimension. The alien conspiracy I mentioned? That ties in with us too. The Kraang- that’s the alien race- were the ones who brought the mutagen to earth, accidentally dropped it on us and dad, and caused us to mutate into part human, part turtle, all awesome, mutants. Well, not dad. He got turned into a giant rat man. End result was the same though: four tiny turtle sons and one big fuzzy dad.”

Mikey said every word of that sentence with a straight face, not pausing or stuttering for a second. He really, really believed what he was saying was true. Rachel’s head gave another throb. Leo still looked like he was drinking up every word, and Donnie seemed to be flipping between looking ill or dubious of his own reality.

“You keep saying four sons,” Leo spoke up, avidly focused on all of them. He glanced at Rachel, and Rachel’s heart stopped beating. “And you said Rachel used to be a boy. What happened there?”

Rachel couldn’t think. He was too busy screaming inside his head.

Everyone was looking at him. Eyes looking over him and his not thick enough hoodie, judging him for what he did to himself and what he was.

_(“Freak.”)_

Rachel’s scars throbbed, and he felt like he was dying, right there and then.

Mikey shrugged, and Rachel barely saw the motion. “Eh, don’t know, don’t care. Raph’s- er, _Rachel’s_ still Rachel, no matter which universe. So he’s a she, now; doesn’t really change much in my opinion. Unless,” Mikey looked over at Rachel, intent completely on him. “You’re not?”

Panic seized Rachel's whole body. It raced up his spine, and locked up every muscle in his body.

Mikey. _Knew._

_How?!_

“I- uh-” Rachel couldn’t force sound out of his throat; it’d closed up and was slowly closing tighter still. “I’m- I’m-”

_(Tell them. Say it.)_

_(“Freak.”)_

_(Say it, just SAY IT.)_

_(“Freak!”)_

_(TELL THEM JUST SAY IT JUST SAY SOMETHING YOU USELESS IDIOT-)_

_(“FREAK!”)_

“I’m- I’m a girl,” Rachel choked out, words tasting like bile as he did. “I’m. I’m not- a- I’m just. Me. I’m a girl.”

Rachel’s lungs felt useless and empty, and his eyes prickled embarrassingly. He wanted to die. He wanted to shrivel up and turn into nothing so badly it felt like a physical ache in his chest. Just someone _kill him_ already, for the love of god, just fucking _kill him already-_

Rachel imagined, in the beat of a few seconds, a gun, a knife, a truck, a building, a fall, a break, a stab, a bullet, _anything-_ absolutely _anything_ to put him out of his misery.

His hands, inside the front pocket of his hoodie, went to his wrists. His nails bit into his skin, and he couldn’t tell if he was digging hard enough to draw blood, yet. All he knew was that he felt claustrophobic in his own body, and wanted to shred it up so no one would ever have to see the mess he’d made of himself.

_(“Freak.”)_

Mikey gave him a long stare, and then shrugged. No one seemed to have noticed Rachel loudly pleading death right in front of them. It was a relief, as well as fucking typical.

No one cared, and no one ever would. Rachel wasn’t sure why he always hoped for something other than that hard fact.

He lost the thread of conversation after that, busying trying to build back up his façade of normalcy and not break down in front of three people he barely knew. God, he was pathetic. Nearly losing it over a stupid question like that was just sad. He’d been fielding things like that for years, and yet for some wonderfully horrid reason, it was ten times harder to do it in front of these three boys.

It probably tied in with the whole ‘past life family’ bullshit Mikey was spewing _._ Rachel was officially ready to resign from the continuing flow of beyond insane events; he was done. Just fucking done. He didn’t care if he’d been a freaking _god_ in his past life; he wanted out while his secret was still a secret.

If he killed himself, he’d never have to tell anyone, and whatever Mikey knew would be worthless. No one would give ten fucks about a suicidal teenager secretly being a freak in more ways than one; they’d just sweep his body into some cheap grave and be done with it. That option presented the least resistance, and the most benefits, to Rachel right then.

Maybe he’d finally do it tonight. Maybe he’d just finally get it over with and kiss the world and its judgemental population goodbye. He wouldn’t even need to write a note- he could just toss himself off a bridge and be done with it. If he was lucky, no one would find his body until it was decomposed beyond recognition, and they’d never see his scars.

And Mikey, and Leo and Donnie, would never know. Rachel would disappear without word or notice, and just be gone for good. They’d go on with their weird lives, and fulfill whatever bizarre fantasy Mikey was using them for. They’d forget about Rachel, the incredibly pathetic and un-noteworthy person they’d known once upon a time, and that would be the end of things.

Rachel didn’t come back to the present until a nurse approached their table, and told the three resident crazies their visiting time was up. He didn’t hear what she said to him; Rachel tuned it out and replied with something that got a bland smile from the woman. He barely felt the piece of paper shoved into his hands by- someone- and maybe managed to say goodbye to his general surroundings.

It wasn’t until he was outside, shakily lighting a cigarette and inhaling it fast enough to cough, that he realized he’d shut down for a solid half hour. Whatever had happened after Rachel had freaked the fuck out in his head; it wasn’t something he’d registered.

He uncrumpled the paper that’d been shoved into his hands. It had Mikey’s scrawling handwriting all over it, crossed out conversation topics and nonsense doodles surrounded by frowny faces and arrows. Rachel flipped it over, and found the real message of the paper.

_‘come on this day!!! everyone else is busy but ill be good for another talk! you seemed kinda super tired today so you probs missed stuff. :(_

_no worries tho! it was a lot to take in. well try again next time, and ill try to make things more understandable!!!_

_pls go home and sleep or something. you look sick and thats not a fun thing to be._

_take care!! <3<3<3<3’_

The end of the note was accompanied by Mikey’s signature, a :) face, and a date plus a time. The date was on one of the days off Rachel had told Mikey he had, and the time was set later in the day, like Mikey had accounted for Rachel’s insomniac tendencies.

Rachel felt…

Sick. Well and truly sick.

He finished his cigarette, shoved the paper into his hoodie pocket, and headed for his borrowed car. He didn’t look back at the institution once the whole time he drove away.

He managed to stave off his imminent break down until he didn’t stand chance of getting into an accident. He made it into his house, keys fumbling in his numb fingers, and couldn’t even bother to lock the door behind him.

He made it to the stairs, slipped on the first step, and banged his knee on the hardwood. Rachel burst into tears, and howled.

He curled up on the stairway like the pathetic fuckup he was, and couldn’t move no matter how hard he tried. His chest opened up and caved inwards, yawning and achingly painful as it dragged him in.

He made it up the stairs minutes- hours- weeks later. Trudging steps, sniffling and half sobbing as he did. Feeling like the worst person alive, and furiously wishing he wasn’t that.

He put six deep cuts into his left arm, and let the cuts bleed without any inclination to stop them from doing so.

Rachel didn’t bleed out. Unfortunately. As much as he fantasized in that moment, the world going dim around him, but not so completely that he knew he was dying, he didn’t get to die on the floor of his bathroom. It took a while to come back to his full sense of self, but the pleasant dull throb in his arm became a stinging pain in the neck, and his grey haze was sobered.

Dizzy, sick, and self-disgusted, Rachel patched up his cuts. His stupid, over dramatic cuts. He’d made a mess of his bathroom- blood was everywhere, _fuck-_ and he didn’t even have the energy anymore to properly kill himself.

Fucking pathetic. If only Mikey and the other two could see him now. Bet then they wouldn’t be so keen to drag him into their tightknit little group. Rachel was a purely poisonous human being, and he’d been poisoning himself slowly for years. They wouldn’t want someone like that within a hundred miles of them.

Brothers. Family. Past lives. What a bunch of shit. A bunch of wishful, totally fake shit, that Rachel in no way wanted.

Maybe if he told himself that enough times, it’d be true.

Rachel ended up slumped against the side of the tub; the blood he’d gotten on the rim and the floor drying steadily the longer he left it. He couldn’t find energy to clean it up. All he could do was sit and breathe.

Not like anyone was going to see it. His cousins and uncle wouldn’t be back for at least another few weeks. Rachel was completely in the clear to be a self-destructive idiot all on his own, and no one would interrupt him. Once the blood was gone, and he put on a hoodie, it’d be like nothing ever happened. Just like always.

Ha. It looked like he wasn’t completely done with the crying thing.

Rachel curled over his knees; burning arm clutched to his chest, and desperately wished someone gave a damn.

 

 

 

Mikey stared at the ceiling to his room, flat on his back and not sleepy at all. He wondered privately how much longer he was going to be able to watch Raph keep walking away, again and again.

Something was wrong with his brother/sister/whatever. Something that pinged all the same alarms that Leo and Donnie did with their wrongness. Something that was so very obviously causing Raph pain, and something he/she wasn’t telling anyone about.

Raph had never been exactly the type to talk about stuff that bothered him/her, but this? Whatever it was? Definitely something they needed to talk about, pronto.

Ugh, and his brothers called _Mikey_ cagey. Mikey had laid all his cards out on the table today- and damn was that ever a relief- so everyone else were the ones keeping things to themselves, now, not Mikey! Hypocrisy at its finest.

Mikey felt his heart twinge, sharp and fast, at the lack of support he had right now. Leo was out of the equation, Donnie even more so, and Raph/Rachel probably had nothing, too. Mikey had no older brothers, no April or Casey, and no father to go to for advice. He had just himself, and he found himself completely lacking anything useful.

Bluh bluh bluh- why was it _him_ who got all his memories, and literally no one else? He was totally useless at this, and it was starting to show more and more as he tried to fix things. His older brothers- or, their past selves at least- would have known what to do.

Mikey was just… Mikey. And he had no clue what to do, other than to keep throwing information at his brothers, and pray something stuck and made them feel even just a _tiny_ bit better. If it brought back memories in the process, great! Fantastic! Mikey would take even just one of his brothers remembering a small portion of their old lives. _Anything_ of those memories coming back would make him feel less useless and alone.

Deeply and painfully, Mikey missed his father. Splinter definitely would’ve known how to fix their family, with an old ninja trick or saying or _something._ Their dad could’ve fixed everything easy; Mikey was sure of that.

So long as Splinter had his memories, at least. Which… he probably didn’t, since no one else had except for Mikey.

Aaaaand right back around to the feelings of uselessness and loneliness. Wonderful. Mikey was talking himself in circles, and he knew every loop was pointless. Just him mentally pacing a hole into his mindscape and not facing what he had to do. Which was to buck the fuck up, and fix his family!

And he would! He wouldn’t let his family down like that, he wouldn’t! Not when everything was scarily riding on his every move and their future chances at reuniting hung in the balance; he couldn’t afford to fail, not now of all times!

Yeah, he’d do it! He’d figure things out- six-hundred-and-something time’s the charm, right?- and convince his brothers/whatever Raph was at the moment to bring their family back together, and then they’d go find April and Casey and their _dad_ , and then they’d deal with whatever issues were clogging up everyone’s heads, or maybe deal with them before that, and, and, and-

And they’d be together again, and everything would be 100% better. Definitely.

Yes. A perfect pep talk, courtesy of Mikey. Masterful. He was utterly convinced now that everything would work out, somehow. No way could he fail!

Hm. There was still the fact that he had to get used to calling Raph a girl, and calling her ‘Rachel’.

…that would take some practice. Two lifetime’s worth of memories were not easily changed lickety-split, unfortunately. But hey, whatever Raph- _Rachel_ wanted to be called, he’d roll with it. Gender and names were just label stuff; his family was his family, plain and simple.

Rachel had looked pretty ill, though. Totally zoned out when Mikey had continued the conversation after asking her about the whole reincarnated-as-a-girl thing. It’d been pretty worrying to see happen, honestly, even though Donnie and Leo hadn’t seemed to notice.

Priority number one, next time Mikey saw Rachel, was to address that. He’d make a proper list this time just for that.

If Rachel came back at all.

Mikey banished the negative thoughts attached to that one. No way would Rachel bail on them now; that wasn’t who she was! He’d told himself that before, and he’d tell himself that again. His sister wouldn’t ever abandon their family, ever. Not when they needed her.

And, if Mikey was honest with himself, they needed Rachel’s strength more than ever. _He_ needed her strength. Mikey had gotten this far on sheer luck and stubbornness, and he wasn’t sure how much longer that would be enough. He needed Rachel here; he needed his _whole family_ together again. Desperately, he needed those things.

…he also needed to sleep. Mikey had scheduled the next meet up in just two days, and he only had tomorrow to get his shit together enough to convince Rachel better the third time around.

With that, and with skillful practice cultivated over the many years of his two lives, Mikey turned off his brain and put himself to sleep.

The usual nightmares followed, bright and vivid and enthralling every second. The next day came, and Mikey woke up with a cheery skip to his steps. He made his list, consulting Donnie’s irritable, snappish advice on good bullet points to cover, and mentally prepared himself for Rachel’s questions while continuing to field Donnie and Leo’s. They covered a lot in one day, considering Mikey and Donnie both had appointments to attend, and his brothers seemed only a smidgen befuddled at the end of it. Mostly, they seemed thoughtful; like there were really considering the things Mikey was saying.

That gave Mikey another boost of confidence, and put whole lot of warm fuzzies in his chest.

Mikey went to sleep, keeping his looping feeling of confidence running in the back of his mind. He got up the next day, eagerly and impatiently waiting for visiting hours to roll around. Fidgeting constantly until Donnie snapped at him to sit still for more than ten fucking seconds.

A nurse finally, _finally,_ came to get Mikey, and brought him to the visiting room for his scheduled meeting. He sat down at the same table they’d all chosen the last few times, folded his hands together around his list, and beamed at anyone who glanced at him.

He waited. And waited. And waited.

Raph didn’t show.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we start happy, and end sad. *confetti* such is the way of my writing muse.
> 
> out of all these characters, i feel i relate the most to raph. poor thing.


	13. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sliding his glasses back on, Donnie glanced at Mikey on the couch again. He was probably supposed to say something comforting to Mikey at this point. See if there was anything he could do to help the other teen feel better.
> 
> …
> 
> Donnie didn’t have anything like that. Just some bitter questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings for sickness towards the end of the chapter, though it's minor.

_“-onnie-”_

_Donnie’s head throbbed harshly, black covering his vision and furthering the blindness he felt. Every nerve he had was on fire, he couldn’t tell which way up or down or even what he was lying on, just that it was cold and sharp and his head_ hurt-

_“-ome on, wake u-!”_

_Everything felt disconnected, painful but unreal. There’d- there’d been an explosive sound wave- then fire- and then-_

_-_ pain-

_“-od please, just hold on, we’re getting you home I swear-”_

_“wh’s- who-?” Donnie slurred, the side of his cheek burning as he did. He vaguely tasted iron, hot and liquid on his thick feeling tongue. “M’key?”_

_“-‘m here, Dee, we got you-”_

_“-old his neck, we don’t- - - ould be bad, gotta keep him-”_

_“R’ph?” Donnie tried to turn his head towards- his- brother?- (what?) but found he wasn’t able to. Something was holding his neck still._

_“-on’t move!” Raph’s voice scolded, lost somewhere in the pitch that covered Donnie’s sight. “Jesus fuck- you could have a broken neck, don’t you_ dare _move right now-”_

_(Broken neck? Brother? What-?)_

_“Wh’r’s- wh’re’s Leo-?” Donnie mumbled, because they’d been looking for him, he’d been in- in trouble? K----, he’d been with her, and they’d- they’d gone looking because- because-_

_(What? Who? Why were they-)_

_“-ere, I’m right here, Donnie!” Leo’s voice made it through the sound of- sirens? And the sound of Donnie’s thudding heartrate. Leo’s tone sounded- sounded so distressed- “Oh god, I never- I never meant for him to get hurt, we were just-”_

_(-just what? What were they doing, who was that ‘she’-?)_

_“-ut up! You don’t get to say_ anything,” _Raph growled at Leo, furious and high-strung with his words. “This is your fuckin’ fault, running off without telling_ any _of us what you’re up to-”_

_“I didn’t mean for him-”_

_“Shut up and help me not let him fucking_ die, _I don’t give a shit if you did or no-”_

_(Donnie’s- Donnie’s body felt heavy, thicker than it should be- what was- what was happening? Where was he?)_

_“-ust hold onto me, Dee, don’t fall asleep or nothin’, okay?” Mikey’s voice pleaded, and Donnie could barely feel the hand in his. “Come, keep talking to me, don’t close those eyes, don’t you_ dare _close them-”_

_(-close them? He had them open? But- he couldn’t see anything at all-)_

_“-eep movin’, he needs Sensei and he needs him_ now-”

_“Raph?” Donnie asked one more time. His head- god, everything hurt and he couldn’t think straight, let alone remember what had happened, why they were here beyond looking for Leo-_

_“I’m here, Don. Just keep talking. We’re getting you home, I promise.”_

_(But-_

_-he’d (she’d?) been gone-_

_-disappeared didn’t come back-_

_-where did she (he?) go-_

_-Mikey was missing her (him)-)_

_Donnie drifted from those thoughts, muddled and sleepy._

_“Donnie? Donnie, hey Donnie- shit shit shit,” Hands tightened around Donnie’s body, voices getting louder and more desperate. “Donnie- oh fuck, come on- Donnie! Wake up, don’t you dare fall asleep-”_

_“-shit, oh shit oh shit- come on Dee, don’t do this, don’t you dare fucking do this-”_

_“-I-I-I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t mean for this to happen- oh god, Donnie please don’t- don’t fall asleep on us, I’m so sor-”_

_“-ONNIE, WAKE UP-!”_

_“-ee, DEE-!”_

_“-I’m so sorry-”_

_Donnie’s mind went dark, and the voices disappeared._

Donnie woke up, head swirling and eyes unfocused and disbelieving of the ceiling above him.

He blinked, trying to steady his breathing and shake off the ghost sensations of a skull injury. His room was still dark, probably hours before the nurses turned up the lights and called for breakfast. Only the slim window along the uppermost parts of the wall letting in ambient light from outside; illuminating enough that Donnie could blink and stare and try to figure out why there was a ceiling above him and not a night sky and cityscape.

The haze of the dream clung to him, and the contents of it finally settled into Donnie’s mind.

“…what the fuck,” He whispered to himself.

 

 

 

Donnie wondered what sort of sleeping pills they’d changed his prescription to. That whole not-quite dream, not-quite nightmare experience had been discombobulating to say the least.

It probably had to do with the extra source of stress in his life at the moment, on top of all the other ones. Namely Mikey- up till recently- trying to keep shoving his story down Donnie’s throat, and the disappearance of Rachel.

Donnie would almost prefer it if the enthusiastic, completely insane sounding confidence would come back to Mikey’s voice; he’d prefer dealing with Mikey’s forever upbeat self every damn day as he told stories straight out of fiction, instead of…

The Mikey that didn’t speak, and looked like the life had gone out of him.

It’d only been two days since the meeting, the one where Rachel hadn’t shown hide or hair of herself, and Mikey had gone eerily silent. After spending weeks in the presence of someone who very rarely shut up, the sharp change in behavior unsettled Donnie’s careful equilibrium. Without Mikey to dominate the conversation, the three of them had lapsed into grim quiet.

Donnie had wished multiple times for that. He wasn’t so sure he appreciated having it granted.

It just seemed so _wrong_ for Mikey to be sullen, his entire self dimming the longer time passed. It made the unfamiliar feelings in Donnie’s chest twinge uncomfortably, and he largely blamed Mikey for those twinges.

Mikey’s smile hadn’t shown itself since Rachel had ditched them. It was starting to really frustrate Donnie that it hadn’t. So one person didn’t want to be a part of their insanity, so what? The less people involved the better; fewer individuals Donnie had to track and examine and try to understand the reactions and emotions of.

He preferred solitude, aloneness; less people were always a blessing to him. So why did Rachel’s disappearance cause the same twinges Mikey’s sullenness did?

Donnie was tired of nothing making sense, and everything being involved with their supposed past lives. He missed his laptops and desktops and I-pads with a passion; with those, everything could make sense so long as he had enough time to compile research about it. He had none of those comfort tools with him, and the confusion just kept mounting.

And the dream. The dream that’d set his heart racing and left an impact sensation on the back of his skull where he’d never been injured before. Everything had been black, but he’d known every individual that surrounded him there just by their voices.

Yet another confusing mystery to add to his ever growing pile. Hooray.

Donnie rolled his pencil between his fingers, switching between spinning it and flipping it. He was trying to resist the urge to nibble on it as he irritably worked through math equations in his new notebook; it was an urge that was getting stronger the longer he sat at the foot of their claimed couch. Mikey was curled up on it, same as he had been each free time the last two days; both of them waiting for Leo’s longer appointment to be finished.

Mikey hadn’t moved even an inch since he lay down. It was unnerving, seeing someone who was constantly in motion suddenly stop. Donnie watch closely every few minutes, just to see if Mikey’s chest was even still moving as he breathed, and then he’d admonish himself for caring.

Mikey was perfectly fine; Rachel was one person. He was just being overdramatic about the whole deal, and in Donnie’s opinion, should have moved on already. She’d heard what they had to say- which was insane and something Donnie couldn’t decide to obsess over or ignore completely- and then she’d left. End of story. She’d seen their nuttiness and decided to get out while she still could.

Donnie didn’t blame her. He would’ve done the same, had he been able to.

Alas, his grandfather hadn’t decided to end his punishment yet, and Donnie would remain in the facility for the time being. As always, that power his grandfather held over him set quietly angry feelings churning in his gut. And just as always, Donnie reminded himself that whenever he got home, things would at least be predictable and normal again. No more putting up with people or appointments, or boys who were so lost in their delusions they couldn’t even tell what was real anymore.

Donnie’s eyes flickered to Mikey again, unwillingly checking him over for the umpteenth time. Mikey remained where he had for the past hours, staring at nothing and barely seeming to blink. This continued to unsettle Donnie.

He liked _consistency._ He’d literally just found some, by acclimating to Mikey’s exuberance and Leo’s nervousness, and _now-_ Donnie had lost half of that consistency, because Mikey apparently couldn’t function without the final member of his delusion.

Parameters. He needed parameters to work with and around. Donnie’s life seemed determined to continue removing every consistent parameter he managed to build, and god _dammnit_ was he ever tired of that.

Donnie pulled off his glasses, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. What he wouldn’t give for wifi.

Sliding his glasses back on, Donnie glanced at Mikey on the couch again. He was probably supposed to say something comforting to Mikey at this point. See if there was anything he could do to help the other teen feel better.

…

Donnie didn’t have anything like that. Just some bitter questions.

“…why can’t you just let her go?” Donnie asked, quiet enough only Mikey would hear him. He didn’t really expect the boy to answer; Mikey hadn’t done more than mumble lately. “She’s just- just some girl. Can’t you just find someone else to fill that part of your delusional roles for us?”

Surprisingly enough, Mikey’s mop of hair moved. He turned his eyes towards Donnie, acknowledging reality for the first time in hours. “…’cause he’s not just some girl, he’s our brother,” Mikey said in a tired voice. Then he wrinkled his nose. “Sorry. She. I’m still getting the hang of that. And it’s not a delusion. It’s real, and I know you know it, Donnie.”

Donnie gave Mikey a long look; half because this was the most alert he’d been in a good while, and half because of how sincere he sounded. “She’s not coming back, Mikey,” Donnie said, ignoring the end of Mikey’s protest. “Rachel saw how crazy we all are, and got out while she could. And I’d go with her, if I could,” He added bitterly. “I’m only here because I can’t leave.”

Mikey’s tired expression shifted into one tinged with hurt. “Aw, Dee, you don’t really mean that. And Rachel’ll come back eventually… I mean, he always did before…”

Mikey’s eyes went distant for a moment, and Donnie’s fingers clenched around his pencil at how _sad_ Mikey looked. If he started crying again, like the brief tears he’d had before running off to give Rachel the first message, Donnie didn’t know what he’d do. Leo wasn’t here to field those emotions, and Donnie wasn’t equipped to deal with them at all.

“Oh my god- just, _stop_ already,” Donnie snapped, frustration at his inability to comfort and lack of control meeting in the middle in a sickening collision. “Just let her go! She’s not coming back and you don’t need her anyways. You’d stop moping around all the time if you’d just forget about her. We were fine before and you’ll be fine again if you just-”

“I can’t,” Mikey interjected, firm and unwavering as he looked at Donnie. Donnie’s words dried up, staring at the sudden intense certainty in Mikey’s expression. “I can’t let go or forget any one of you. You might’ve been able to get on without us, but I need hi- her back. Trust me, I’ve tried letting go before, and it doesn’t work. I just… I need all of you guys, plain and simple.”

Donnie’s grip on his pencil loosened, and it nearly slid onto his open notebook. The openness and sincerity of Mikey’s voice throwing him.

“…what do you even want from us?” He asked, because even after weeks of knowing Mikey, he still didn’t know what the boy was getting out of their relationship. The part of him that knew it wasn’t just Donnie playing a part in a delusion is what made that question continue bothering him.

Mikey’s eyes went even sadder than they had before.

“I just want my family back,” He said hoarsely, looking exhausted and miserable.

And his hand reached out, breaking Donnie’s stunned silence. Donnie recoiled from it, just out of range, and Mikey made a _hideously_ sad noise. It sounded like something breaking, and Donnie wanted to never hear it again.

Mikey started to withdraw the hand, sinking back into the grey silence that had filled the air around him for too long. Donnie needed him to not, to go back to normal, bring back at least one part of his life that wasn’t tainted by darkly with anxiety and fear-

So he snatched at Mikey’s fingers, closing tight around just the tips of them.

 _“I had a dream!”_ Donnie blurted, loud to his own ears and probably everyone else’s. His heart-rate went staccato, feeling eyes everywhere on him, including Mikey’s. Mikey was looking at him, and their hands, and surprise was taking the place of the sadness. Donnie pushed past his jittering nerves, if just for that. “I-I had one. Last night. I’m pretty sure it was just stress induced and a combination of restless REM sleep and new medication- but it, uh, s-seemed to be something like what you described. About us.” Donnie forced his words out, ignoring how everyone was probably _looking at him_ and how he was still clutching the tips of Mikey’s fingers. He hadn’t touched anyone in months. The sensation burned. “About our pa- past lives.”

Mikey’s eyes went wide, hope flooding into them and a semblance of how he was supposed to be returning. _“Really?”_ Mikey said in a stunned voice. “What did you- which part of it?”

“I… don’t know,” Donnie said, trying to keep his hand from shaking around Mikey’s. “It was dark and I couldn’t see anything, and my head- I got hurt, badly, and you three were there… I knew her name. Rachel’s old one.” The voice from his dream came back to Donnie, a few octaves lower than Rachel’s but familiar all the same. “She sounded scared, and worried, and… you all did, actually.”

“…where were you hurt?” Mikey asked, sounding breathless.

Donnie’s free hand went to the base of his skull, touching his shaggy hair and pressing to the skin. “Here.”

“That’s- that’s when Leo and Karai blew up a bunch of buildings,” Mikey said, excitement entering his voice. He seemed to be coming back to life. “You got caught in the tail end of the explosion, and ended up hitting your head really badly on a car. Shit- that was one of the times I was actually kind of scared you were going to die. Sensei said you might not have woken up if he hadn’t healed you, and oh my god- Donnie you _remember that?”_

“Well- sort of?” Donnie replied. The dream was even more confusing now that he was awake and trying to remember. “I couldn’t actually see anything, and there’s a good chance it was just because of you telling us stories that my brain produced the thing-”

“No! No, you remembered it! This is you remembering who we used to be!” Mikey exclaimed, and the way he was looking at Donnie seemed like he’d just received the greatest gift of his life. His fingers twitched in Donnie’s grip, and he started to close them-

And Donnie yanked his hand away, the skin of his hand tingling uncomfortably. He put his other hand over it, holding it tightly. His senses prickled unhappily, signaling he was done with touching for probably the next week.

Mikey brushed off the fact that Donnie had broken their hand hold, sitting up and finally, _finally_ smiling again. “This is great!” Mikey said, pushing his messy hair out of his face as he grinned. “Oh man, this means you guys _can_ get your memories back. That’s amazing!”

Donnie grimaced, rubbing his fingers over his fingers repeatedly to erase the sensation of heat on them. “You don’t know that for sure, and I’m still not entirely convinced of this whole thing. One dream isn’t enough to prove anything at all.”

“Nope, but it’s a good place to start,” Mikey said positively. His energy was coming back, the ever present jitteriness to him returning and making him a source of vibrancy once more. For whatever reason, it set something anxious in Donnie’s chest at ease.

Mikey had seemed dead, the last few days. Even if he was spouting insanity again, Donnie still preferred this Mikey to the other one. It was worth the discomfort on his skin and the confession of his dream.

“I think we all just need to spend a bunch of time together,” Mikey continued, mostly to himself. “Which means this whole mess is _totally_ bullshit reincarnation rules, dammnit. Has Leo said anything about having dreams lately?”

Donnie shook off his drifting attention, drawing it away from his skin and back to Mikey. “Not that I’ve heard of, no. Ask him yourself when he comes back.”

Mikey hummed agreeably, nodding in a way that made his hair bob and bounce. “Good plan, we can all chat about it soon as he gets out. I’ll bet he has and he just hasn’t noticed; Leo always did have trouble remembering his dreams, which made it _so hard_ to do dream interpretations and future readings.”

Donnie furrowed his brow. “What does that have to do with being ninjas?”

“Nothing really, we just got bored a lot and found a book about that stuff in the sewers,” Mikey laughed brightly. It was the first time Donnie had heard the sound since Rachel’s disappearance, and though he’d originally convinced himself he hated it, he welcomed it now.

Something tense in his shoulders unwound, and Donnie felt like some part of his chaotic world had slid back into place. “So… what are you going to do now? About Rachel.”

“He- she’ll come back when she’s ready,” Mikey said, a set confidence resounding in his statement. “I know you guys are having a hard time believing all this- well, except Leo- but I know Rachel will come back eventually. We went through a lot of bad shit in our last lives, but she always came through for us. I know she’ll come back. She just has to.”

“…I don’t know how you can have that much faith in her,” Donnie said, unable to understand how Mikey could trust someone who had no reason to ever see them again. “You only met her a month ago.”

“No, I’ve known you guys my whole life,” Mikey corrected without missing a beat. “I know I can trust all of you, and I know that if I do you’ll trust me. Family is family, and it doesn’t matter what’s happened to us this time, we’ll figure things out eventually. I know we will.”

Donnie tried, and failed, to understand how Mikey could say that with such conviction.

“Okay,” Donnie said, ducking his head and staring at his pencil and notebook instead of the boy who claimed to be his brother, and seemed so, so sincere with that claim. Donnie couldn’t look at him head on when he said those things. “Whatever you say, Mikey.”

All he got in response was some of Mikey’s inappropriate laughter, and for probably the same reason Donnie had reached out in the first place, it made something warm appear in his chest.

 

 

 

When Leo walked into the room, Mikey _beamed_ at him. It took a second to fully take that in, because Mikey hadn’t smiled in days, and then a grin stretched across Leo’s face as well.

“Leo, _Leo Leo Leo Leo-!”_ Mikey chanted as he hurried across the room, ducking around chairs and people. Leo wasn’t fully prepared for it, but he kind of managed to catch Mikey as he flung himself at Leo. “Donnie _remembered_ something!” He exclaimed, right in Leo’s ear and hugging tightly.

Leo tried to push past his nervousness about being in contact with Mikey, and glanced at Donnie. The taller boy- Leo’s taller _brother_ , if Mikey was right- glanced away and hunched his shoulders; holding his notebook to his chest and looking grumpy.

“It was just a dream,” Donnie muttered. “That’s not a good basis for authenticity.”

“But it’s still _something,”_ Mikey insisted, finally releasing Leo enough that he didn’t feel strangled. Mikey turned a megawatt smile on Leo. “And that means _you_ could get your memories back, too, Leo! All of you can!”

Leo’s eyes went wide. “Really?” He asked, hope rising in his chest. If he really could, then he could finally remember the family Mikey said they’d been.

Mikey nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely! Donnie remembered, like, this one time you and Karai blew up a bunch of buildings, and you didn’t tell us what you up to so we went looking for you both, and Donnie got hurt because of it- nearly broke his noggin for good, it was pretty bad-”

“What?” Leo’s heart did an uncomfortable flip. He extricated himself from Mikey’s hug, no longer feeling safe enough for that. “I- I did that?”

“Well, not on purpose, but yeah,” Mikey shrugged, seeming to brush off Leo’s worry. “It was kind of scary for a bit, but Donnie got better so it was fine. And you didn’t mean to, so. Whatever.”

“Apparently I was so badly injured I might not have woken up again,” Donnie said in his driest tone. “If not for magical healing skills, at least. Which I don’t believe in.”

“Dude, ninja healing techniques are real and they saved your life. Respect that shit.”

“It sounds like Naruto nonsense.”

“Oh my god, you watch Naruto??”

“I- no. Shut up.”

“Oh you so _do._ What a nerd.”

“You obviously know what it is, so that means you probably watch it, too!”

“Ah! You admitted it!”

Donnie groaned in a put upon way, and Mikey cackled at him for watching a television show Leo had never heard of.

Leo meanwhile struggled to absorb the notion that he’d hurt his brother bad enough he could’ve remained in a coma for the rest of his life. And that it’d apparently been ‘fine’ afterwards. Leo glanced at Donnie- who was tall and thin and sometimes seemed frail enough he’d just snap in half- and felt a little sick that he’d caused such severe injury to his brother in their last lives.

Leo brought his arms close to him, only half conscious of the desire to restrain himself best he could. He hadn’t hurt either of them- _yet-_ but evidence now supported that even when they’d all known each other, Leo had still managed to do just that.

He’d just keep a bit of space between them all for a bit. Yeah. Good plan.

Leo kept a bubble of distance from him and Mikey and Donnie after that, and until dinnertime a short while later. Leo hoped that when he did- if he did- get his memories back, he’d have better control of himself and wouldn’t have to remain distanced. His past self, from how Mikey described Leonardo, sounded so calm and confident in everything he did. An eldest brother, a hardworking student, a reliable leader…

Leo wanted to be those things, but couldn’t imagine himself being so. Honestly, he’d settle for being able to stop his blank outs. That’s all he really wanted.

That, and for Rachel to come back to them. Leo was genuinely worried for the girl- his _sister,_ wow, he had a sister- and wanted to know if she was alright. She’d seemed in poor sorts when the meeting had concluded, and when she hadn’t come back for the next one, Mikey had just… gone quiet.

But, Mikey was smiling again, and Donnie seemed to be remembering things of their past selves. If their luck kept up, Rachel would show again soon.

Leo prayed she would. He agreed with Mikey; things just seemed incomplete without their fourth member.

Mikey ran ahead of them, to get into the cafeteria first and snag a table to themselves, which left Leo and Donnie picking their way gingerly through the crowd; both of them attempting to avoid touching people for their own reasons.

Leo looked over at Donnie, who was pursing his lips and looking deeply annoyed with everything, and figured he’d say something.

“Hey, uh, good job with Mikey. He’s seems to be feeling a lot better now,” Leo said, smiling at Donnie. “And, um, I’m sorry for getting you hurt in our past lives. I don’t know what I was thinking, letting that happen.”

Donnie gave him a measured look, before averting his eyes and mumbling, “It was just a stupid dream, and all I did was tell him to stop moping around.”

“It worked though, didn’t it?” Leo pointed out.

Donnie’s eyes flickered back to Leo, through the lenses of his glasses and staring warily. “I could be lying,” Donnie said, like it was something Leo had to know. “I could be making up stories because I feel like it, and feeding a delusional kid’s fantasies because I think it’s funny. How can you trust that I’m telling the truth?”

Leo thought for a moment, and then said, “Because I do trust you to be telling the truth, just like I trust Mikey to be. I believe both of you.”

That statement made Donnie frown, and look away again. “That makes no sense.”

“Maybe not, but it’s what we have right now and I’m willing to believe it,” Leo said certainly. He’d had a few days at this point to think deeper on things, and he was fully on board with the idea that all of this was real. Sci-fi fantasy sounding stories or not, it felt true to Leo and he was going to believe in them as well as his brothers and sister.

Donnie was quiet for a moment, refocusing on avoiding other patients as they filed into the cafeteria. Before the noise of the room could overtake them, Donnie said in a low voice, “Say I believe this, too. Just a little bit. What then?”

Leo smiled. “Then we finish convincing Rachel, and we’ll have a complete set.”

Donnie scoffed. “She’s never coming back and you know it. Why would she?”

“Why do _you_ keep coming back?” Leo asked in return. Donnie gave him a wary look, and Leo answered for him. “Because this feels right to us all, whether you believe it right now or not. You feel it too, right? I met Mikey and you and then Rachel- and you all just click. I really believe we used to be family, because why else would we all fit together so easily?”

Donnie gave Leo a look of disbelief and frustration. “I spent the first weeks I knew you two refusing to even speak civilly. You call that easy?”

Leo winced, and laughed sheepishly. “Okay, bad term for it, but you know what I mean.”

Donnie’s lips made a thin line as they started towards the food lineup, and he shrugged. “Maybe, but I reserve my right to think we’re all insane until proven otherwise.”

Leo’s laughter had a self-deprecating tone to it this time, but Donnie probably didn’t notice. “That’s fair.”

Donnie hummed irritably, like he usually did, and reached for a tray. He grabbed a second one before Leo could, and shoved it towards Leo without making contact between them. Leo caught the tray, and felt a fond smile appear on his face at Donnie’s awkward attempts for kindness.

Donnie just looked any direction other than Leo, and kept his scowl in place. Leo shook his head; Donnie was nicer than he gave himself credit for, as insistent as he was that he disliked everyone.

They finished getting food, and found their way to the table Mikey had claimed to switch off who was doing what. Leo pushed away the uncomfortable knowledge that at one point he’d hurt Donnie, and tried to focus on the fact that his brother- his _brother,_ wow, he wasn’t ever getting tired of saying that to himself- was somewhat open to the idea of their past lives.

Now if Rachel would just come back to them, things would probably begin to sort themselves out. Leo hoped she was alright, he really did.

 

 

 

Rachel’s stomach roiled and he bent forwards, coughing on the burning liquid coming up his throat.

Everything spun dizzyingly as he threw up, his bathroom’s familiar surroundings helping not at all with the sickness he was trying to purge from his system. Rachel heaved, and threw up what little lunch he’d managed earlier.

When the heaving finally passed, Rachel slumped away from the toilet and fumbled for the toilet paper nearby. He wiped his nose and mouth, and tossed the napkins into the water and illness to flush it all away.

He stumbled up off the floor, going for the sink and running the facet. He splashed water onto his sweat sticky face, bending his head down and rinsing his mouth as well. Rachel forced himself to drink some water, because he knew if he didn’t there’d be nothing but bile if he threw up again and that shit _stung_ when it came up.

Rachel turned off the facet, and grabbed the nearest towel by the sink. He didn’t even look at the mirror, already knowing he’d look like a wreck if he did, and dropped the towel without a glance back.

He hobbled back to his room, head swimming and body unable to decide if it was too hot or too cold. His whole body felt dirty, days of illness and not enough showers taking its toll. Rachel was too far gone to give a shit though, and chose to just flop back onto his bed.

His healing arm gave a slight sting, unappreciative of the rough treatment, and he ignored it. The nausea in his stomach was so much worse than the cuts on his arm; everything was awful and terrible and Rachel honestly would’ve preferred to be dead right then, rather than riding out a severe case of flu.

Rachel tried to get comfortable enough to sleep, but his bed felt as gross as his body did and the sheets stuck in places they shouldn’t. Rachel whined to no one at all, and cursed existence for boob sweat.

He blearily made sure that his phone was beside his bed still, in easy reach if he ever stopped feeling like he was slowly dying and could go back to work, and that the barf bucket he’d grabbed from the kitchen was still close by. It was actually a plastic salad bowl, and he hoped it wasn’t one of the ones his oldest cousin gave any shits about. It was just there in case Rachel couldn’t get to the bathroom in time, which had happened twice already.

Rachel’s body fought itself, feverish and aching because of the flu in his system. It’d hit just a few days ago, and he was honestly really pissed that he hadn’t caught the 24 hour one.

At least he’d remembered to phone into work he’d be taking more sick days, before the fever set in and turned everything into soup and headaches.

Rachel grabbed blindly for his I-pod, finding the tangled earbuds and pulling them back from across the bed. It took some doing with his clumsy fingers, but he got the cords untied enough for use.

He shoved them into his ears, and thumbed the first playlist he could find on screen. He listened to the first song begin, feeling miserable and sorry for himself as he tried to be patient. Eventually, his immune system would kick the flu out, or he’d die. Either or would be great at this point.

Rachel didn’t know when he passed out, everything was too blurry to really keep track of anymore.

 

 

 

_Images and voices came and went too fast to catch, like water or loose sand slipping through his fingers._

_He saw tunnels, endless and winding beneath a city that didn’t know they existed- he saw a farmhouse, a place that conveyed solace as well as stifling fear- he saw places unearthly that he knew he’d been_ free _in-_

_-he heard people, many of them, speaking to him, laughing with him- none of the conversations or voices stayed long enough for him to hear them properly, but he got muffled impressions of them all and knew that he knew every one of the people speaking to him-_

_-he felt his feet pounding rough ground, his lungs expanding and exhaling rapidly as he ran- those visions were sometimes filled with elation, others with terror- cities and trees and places where there was no ground at all-_

_-sharp, agonizing pain to his chest-_

_-the sensation of being warm and completely safe-_

_-loss-_

_-and-_

_-love-_

“Raph?”

_He turned his head towards the sound, the voice, colors and shapes around him blurred into unrecognizability._

_Three creatures that he couldn’t make out sat nearby, clustered together and staring at him with eyes too large for humans._

“Are you feeling alright?” _The one in the middle asked, the blue band across his face leaking color everywhere as he spoke._

Rachel gasped, jerking out of the dream and accidentally yanking his earbuds out as he flailed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made you all worried didn't i? no worries, raph'll be back soon.
> 
> also: donnie has watched the whole of naruto and was up to date with shippuden before he got shipped off, and mikey watched three box sets of the original series at least fifty times in their past lives. what a pair of fucking nerds.
> 
> and the theme music for this chapter, courtesy of raph's playlist, is "The Suburbs" - by Arcade Fire. no real correlation with anything, it's just a sickass song.


	14. Chapter 10.5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more bonus insight to mikey's mental state. which isn't all that great right now.

Mikey eyed the nurses and doctors he passed, leaving the offices behind him as he walked.

It’d been days since he saw Rachel. He wondered if one of them had said something to her. Told his brother to stay away. He wondered if it was one of their faults she’d left again.

Donnie was remembering things, vague things but _still,_ and that put an ounce of hope in Mikey’s chest. It gave him strength to pull himself back together enough to slap a smile in place again, and keep going.

It however didn’t take away from the sucking ache at knowing his last brother was out there, and he _wasn’t allowed to see him._

_(Her, it was her now. He needed to remember that.)_

Mikey passed by a nurse he recognized.

Paul was pushing a trolley of empty pill containers, talking and laughing with a female nurse. The two of them didn’t even glance at Mikey as they went by each other.

Mikey’s fists curled, and he narrowed his eyes.

What if it had been Paul.

Had Paul said something to Rachel?

What if it was Paul’s fault. What if he was the reason Rachel left and didn’t come back. He’d said those awful things about Leo, so maybe he’d said those awful things again to Rachel. Maybe he’d tried to scare Mikey’s sibling away from her family.

Mikey slowed his steps, turning his head to keep following Paul and the other nurse.

Even if it wasn’t Paul, there were other nurses and doctors here. What if they’d been the ones to say something and keep his brother from him? Or denied Rachel access to them all?

And Mikey had been so calm for them, too, since his last freak out. He’d worked really hard to keep his cool. Really, really hard.

They better not have kept Rachel from him. They better _not have._

Paul sensed Mikey’s staring, and glanced backwards. They met eyes for a second, and the same anger Mikey had had when he’d been listening to Paul talk badly of his brother came back to him.

He knew of six ways to take Paul and the other nurse down before anyone could even blink.

He knew he could do it, if he wanted.

_(But… they’d keep him from his brothers if he did.)_

Mikey slowly uncurled his fists, and smiled at Paul. Toothily. Brightly. Angrily.

Paul’s face went a little pale, and he stopped smiling.

Mikey laughed a little to himself, and turned away. Leaving Paul and all his nasty little words behind and focusing on making his breathing go back to normal. His pulse was too fast, and he felt keyed up for a fight that he wasn’t allowed to fight.

There was a chance he’d get to sit with Donnie before his brother’s appointment. Donnie was so skittish; Mikey couldn’t show up buzzing with anger like this. It would just set his brother’s anxiety off and Mikey would feel awful for doing that.

He flashed a smile at the guard as he passed back into the roaming wards, just like he did at every person he encountered here.

The guard didn’t return the smile, but did nod once. That soothed some of Mikey’s temper, and he decided to hold onto that decency instead of his suspicions.

But still.

What if they had.

What if the doctors and nurses- who he didn’t believe in or trust even a little- had been the ones to send Rachel away.

The suspicion made it very, very hard to keep his cool.

He opted for laughing a little; see if it made the conflicting hope/despair/anger feelings in his chest any easier to breathe around.

It didn’t.

( _They better not have. Oh they better not have…_ )

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's unlikely real hospitals would do what mikey suspects but he's A) not exactly connected to reality a lot of the time and B) raised on salvaged media decades out of date. he's got no other view to mental institutions other than negative ones. (that, plus he's still used to being able to do whatever he wanted, and being held here away from his brother is not something he wants.)


	15. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how good this went, although i do like the ending to things.
> 
> music i had on repeat while writing this chapter was a variation between _"We Exist"_ by Arcade Fire and _"Out Of Body"_ by the Gorillaz ft. Kilo Kish, Zebra Katz  & Imani Vonshà. take a listen if you feel like it.

The nightmares didn’t stop coming. Or maybe they weren’t nightmares, but instead really uncomfortable dreams.

Rachel wasn’t sure. He wasn’t really sure about anything anymore.

Though, he _was_ sure he felt a bit bad for missing his appointment with Mikey. He hadn’t even remembered about that until after he’d broken his fever, which had taken days to accomplish. The flu had pretty much knocked everything out of his head, including the date he’d been scheduled to meet the boy on.

At least he’d remembered to call in very, very sick at work before the flu really set in.

Rachel still felt like shit though, achy and a bit congested. He couldn’t sleep comfortably even if he wanted to, which he sort of didn’t anymore, since those _dreams_ kept coming back to him.

Blurry, half-formed figures or incomprehensible images dotted his sleep. Sometimes voices he _knew_ he knew, and yet didn’t. Sometimes heart wrenching emotions that hurt for so many reasons, ones he couldn’t figure out the meaning behind.

There ended up being a lot of messy sketches all over his room as a result.

Whenever he woke up- if he wasn’t in the process of dying or grabbing for his bucket- Rachel would try to get as much of his dream onto paper. Because, soon as his head cleared and he woke up completely, most of the dream would fade away like it’d never existed. It left him feeling frustrated, because he’d read enough fiction to know at this point the dreams _meant_ things.

None of the pictures looked quite right though, and what he could remember of the dreams was always bland and colorless. Nothing at all like when he was asleep and experiencing them firsthand.

But, he did retain enough to know that they were A) really important and B) almost definitely to do with the three boys in the asylum. Which was disconcerting.

And here he’d missed the third appointment by a full week. Yikes.

He was meandering and stalling about rectifying that, because he was still feeling a sting of shame that the missed date had been his own fault. And besides, those three boys probably wouldn’t care if Rachel was another few days late; just until he got through enough shifts to recover his graces at work. They had their own lives; they didn’t need Rachel around to keep on with those.

“Rach, Rach, Rach, gal, hey.”

Rachel put his head in his hands and groaned.

“Are you sure you should be here just yet?” Cynthia asked. “You’re still really pale, and I don’t think you heard anything I just said.”

Maybe that’s because he hadn’t been listening- mostly on purpose, a little because his head had been wandering.

“I need money,” Rachel said as a response instead.

Cynthia made a sympathetic hum. “Don’t we all? But really, you look terrible.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate the compliment,” Rachel grumbled, taking his hands away from his face. Looking at Cynthia’s neatly curled bob and perfect makeup just made him more frustrated, since Rachel knew he did in fact look like utter shit. It was hard for him to be pale, but look, he’d accomplished it regardless.

So maybe he still felt like he was slowly dying. It wasn’t that big of a deal, he usually felt like that anyway.

Cynthia was still giving him a frustratingly concerned look.

“I’m _fine,”_ Rachel insisted.

“You don’t look it,” Cynthia replied.

Rachel very nearly couldn’t restrain his biting remark that it wasn’t any of her fucking business.

How many hours left on his shift?

Rachel glanced at the clock behind them.

Four.

God dammnit.

“Look, I can’t leave,” Rachel said, glancing away from Cynthia so he wouldn’t end up outright glaring at her. “I missed almost a full week as it is, and I was sick of sitting at home anyways.” Trying to decipher the dreams was useless, and when he hadn’t been doing that he’d been stuck lying in bed and feeling like a waste of space. It was like karmic revenge for how stupid he’d been, cutting himself so deeply and then not properly cleaning them after. This was his own damn fault, and that made him feel all the sicker.

“I _wish_ I could take a week off,” Cynthia said wistfully, leaning on the counter. “Even if it meant puking my guts out, at least I could spend time with my- best friend. We don’t get to see each other much, with school and jobs and shit getting in the way.”

Rachel could care less, so he didn’t respond beyond a, “That sucks.”

“It really does.”

The bell to the store door chimed, and Rachel stood up out of his hunch to greet the customer. Except as he did, his vision wobbled for a moment and he stumbled on thin air.

Cynthia’s hand caught his shoulder, and Rachel shrugged it off immediately.

“Go take fifteen,” She said. She nodded at the woman heading for the counter. “I’ve got this.”

Rachel decided to take advantage of that offer, and left without complaint. Sitting in the staffroom, he slouched into a chair at the lone table. It was only eleven in the morning, and he already felt like lying down for good.

Maybe he should eat something. His appetite had been coming back slowly, and he definitely hadn’t eaten enough in the last twenty-four hours.

He found his stash of protein bars in the communal staff cabinet, and took one out to eat. It tasted gross, since it’d a few months since he bought the package, but everything tasted a little gross at the moment. Sickness tended to crapshoot his sense of taste like that.

Rachel finished the bar, and crumpled up the wrapper to shoot for the waste bin. It missed by two feet and he couldn’t summon the energy to go pick it back up.

He sighed, and slumped tiredly over the tabletop.

He didn’t even notice falling asleep.

_He sat on the porch step, staring out blankly at the tree line._

_It didn’t offer any solutions to the heavy feelings weighing him down. It’d been almost three months, and he still felt like he was drowning right along with his father._

_The presences of people inside the house behind him barely entered his senses; the familiarity of their steps giving comfort, but also dredging up feelings of uselessness. He couldn’t do anything here. He couldn’t get a job, couldn’t be their doctor, couldn’t cheer anyone up or cook-_

_There wasn’t even anyone for him to fight properly._

_Out here, he didn’t have anything to offer at all._

_The door opened behind him._

“Hey.”

_He didn’t turn his head towards the voice, and ignored the steps coming towards him._

_Someone sat down next to him, and he continued to look out towards the treeline; focusing on the darker greens of the forest rather than the paler green legs beside him._

“…you didn’t eat any dinner again.”

_He grunted._

_The person sighed._

“C’mon, Raph. You can’t keep skipping out on meals. I know you got your whole brooding thing going on, but you _know_ how much we gotta eat to keep healthy-”

“Fuck off,” _He hissed._ “It’s none of your fucking business if I eat or not.”

_A pause, and then the person put out their hand- setting it on his shoulder._

“I said _fuck off!”_ _He snapped, smacking the hand off him with more force than he really needed._

 _The person reeled, and then snapped back,_ “I’m just trying to help you, _asshole._ You don’t need to be such a jackass all the time about everything-”

_He shoved the person away from him, hard enough their shell (what-?) connected with the railing of the porch. They yelped as they hit the wood, and curled on themself._

_The two of them froze, glaring at each other as their family kept moving on with their evenings inside._

_He slowly lowered his hunched shoulders, closing his hands around one another._ “…sorry. I’m just… too tired for this.”

“…I know, but Raph…”

_He glanced up._

_His brother stared back, wide blue eyes unusually guarded and keen._

_He blinked, suddenly unable to tell who he was looking at. Greens bled together, smearing everywhere, and then drained away. Only orange remained as it had been, it’s tails drifting through the air._

_Browns and blacks took the green’s place, and the new colors framed the blue eyes that hadn’t changed at all. Curling hair and a hundred peppered freckles were barely obscured by the color leaking orange band circling them._

“I’m just trying to help,” _Mikey said, still curled around his center protectively._ “Can’t you let me?”

_He opened his mouth to respond-_

A hand on his shoulder shook him awake.

“Rachel, hey, Rachel? Girl, come on- shift’s over.”

Rachel blearily pushed the offending hand off of him, senses startling back to wakefulness with painful speed.

Cynthia was in his space, looking right at him.

Rachel stumbled out of his chair, away from her eyes. His knees and hips popped as he did, and he nearly groaned at how achy his joints felt. Spots darted his vision dazedly.

“- _ffuckk,_ how long was I out?” He asked, grabbing the edge of the table just in time to keep upright.

Cynthia gave him what was probably a kind look, which just made Rachel even more disoriented and frustrated. “You fell asleep when you went for your break, and I didn’t have it in me to wake you up. Sorry, you just looked like you really needed it.”

Rachel nearly spat a nasty curse at her- holy _fuck_ was that bad. Sleeping on the job, after missing so many shifts? God dammnit, he was going to get fired for sure. And it was all Cynthia’s _(his)_ fault.

“And by the way,” Cynthia leaned in close a second time, speaking in a stage whisper. “I kept your nap on the down-low. No one will know except us two.” She winked conspiratorially. “I promise.”

Rachel blinked slowly, and then rubbed his eyes. He swallowed the vitriol in his throat as he cleared the sleep grain out of his eyes, and decided to not have a bitchfit at his co-worker. He could let Cynthia’s weird friendliness slide this one time, if only so she’d keep being quiet about Rachel’s accidental nap.

And besides. Rachel was too busy having a slow freak out about the latest dream to really start anything.

He needed a cigarette and space alone. Now.

“Thanks,” He said, already going for the coat rack to pull on his coat. Freak out was imminent and he was going to hold it in until he was alone. “I. Really appreciate it. I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“It’s no problem, we didn’t get more then another two folks around after you went on break.”

“Cool,” Rachel said, and then he walked around Cynthia to the exit. “Thanks again, I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.”

“Oh- okay, hope you feel better!”

Rachel kept walking, steadily increasing his pace. He blew out the back door to the store, pulling the lighter and packet of cigarettes from his pockets and lighting a smoke as he went.

He inhaled, exhaled. Inhaled, exhaled. Kept walking.

He made it a whole two blocks, into an adjacent alley from where he’d come from, before he finally opened his mouth and screeched, _“WHAT THE ACTUAL **FUCK?!** ”_

A collection of crows that had been picking at an open dumpster bin took flight as his voice rang off the surrounding buildings.

Rachel let out another yell, this one wordless, and kicked the dumpster with all his might. His toes stung from the blow, and the container made a disappointing hollow thud.

“What the fuck what the fuck what the _FUCK-”_ Rachel howled at no one. He whirled towards the screaming murder of crows up on the wires. “And _YOU_ , SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

They did not shut up.

Rachel dropped his cigarette, clenching his fists and yelling angrily at the crows.

Their own displeased yelling made a perfect cacophonic match to Rachel’s.

He finally stopped screaming as his voice cracked, and he started coughing instead. His heart thrummed fast and loud in his ears, nearly drowning out the angry collection of birds above him.

He remembered the dream perfectly, for once. And its contents were freaking him out.

Brother. Family. Mikey.

Raph.

Rachel covered his eyes, and took a couple throat stinging breaths.

What. The. Fuck.

It’d felt so real, so- so tangible and actual and _true._ He’d felt himself shove Mikey, experienced the turmoil of emotions and fear. Responded to the name ‘Raph’ like it was his and always had been.

The dream had been so much more real than the others. Like it wasn’t a dream at all, instead feeling more like… a memory.

Rachel felt woozy, off-kilter, and like he’d just been flipped on his axis for the umpteenth time.

He took another few gulps of air, and forced himself to find calmness again. Or at least a semblance of it.

The crows above him seemed to decide the threat he presented was no longer worth being scared of, and flew back down into the open dumpster. Rachel stared at them, a little jealous of how easy their dilemma was compared to his.

Rachel pushed a few loose hairs out of his face, and put them behind his ear. The warm metal studs there scratched his hand as he did, and helped with his attempt to return to normal breathing rates.

He stood in the alleyway, thinking on what the dream had presented him with. This was the first one he could recall perfectly, and the first one he’d been able to speak in. The first to feel real.

So now what was he supposed to do.

Rachel reached inside his jacket, and checked his phone display.

…he still had a few hours before visiting hours were closed at the asylum. If he hurried, and maybe speeded a little…

He closed the screen and started walking back towards where he’d parked his car.

 

 

 

A part of Rachel had been waiting to make a decision about things, since he was unsure how legit the dreams were while he was sick. But now he’d had one in the middle of the day, no alcohol or sickness involved, which had been clearer than all the others.

And it hadn’t felt like a dream. It felt like a memory.

He’d put off visiting Mikey, Donnie, and Leo long enough; waffling on whether or not he was ready to go full in with the insanity, and unwilling to experience another breakdown like last time. But at this point, Rachel had an increasingly insistent voice in the back of his head telling him to go back, and to accept what the blurry dreams were pushing at him.

It sounded all incredibly made up. Cliché, even. Four reincarnated individuals destined to find each other a second time in a second life; the whole thing was straight out of fiction and it was dragging Rachel into it whether he liked it or not.

Undeniably, Rachel felt a pull towards the three boys. As bizarre and off-putting as they all were, the part of him that recognized the dreams as something near reality recognized them as well.

Which was why he drove out to the asylum, despite still feeling exhausted and achy.

The desk clerk gave him a restrained frown, since there were only so many hours left before the window to visit patients closed, and the clerk clearly didn’t want to add another visitor he’d have to chase out.

Rachel gave negative shits about that. He needed to see Mikey. _Wanted_ to see him, even.

He was let into the mostly empty visiting room, and told to sit at a table while a nurse went to find Mikey. Rachel was lucky; Mikey’s appointments had apparently concluded for the day, and he would be available to visit with. Rachel barely heard the explanation of that, busy turning his dream-memory over in his head again and again.

No matter what he tried, he couldn’t get the image of the person Mikey had been _before_ to come into clarity. Rachel had seen it briefly in the dream, the form Mikey had used to have, but it’d been the one thing that hadn’t survived the waking process. All Rachel could see was a vaguely shaped green and orange blur.

Factually- if you could call it that- he knew Mikey had been a. Mutant turtle. Yeah that was still hard to get his head around, as uncomfortably right as it sat in his mind. Mentally he just couldn’t get a clear image to appear; it stayed stubbornly blurry.

It was incredibly frustrating.

Rachel heard a door slam open, and he jerked his head upwards.

Mikey stood in the interior doorway, breathing harsh and fast and looking like he’d sprinted to the visiting room. Which he likely had.

His eyes found Rachel almost immediately.

The lividness to his stare was a little disconcerting.

Mikey crossed the room in strides, heading straight for the table Rachel had picked. Rachel stood up as he approached, trying to avoid letting the boy loom over him too much.

“Do you- have any- _fucking idea-”_ Mikey snapped, the moment he got in range. “-how _worried_ I was?!”

Rachel was unprepared to see the genuine distress under the lividness. Or the way Mikey’s curled fists were shaking.

He crossed his arms defensively against those things. “…I got sick, I’m sorry. I completely forgot about the appointment. I barely even remembered work.”

A flash of hurt went through Mikey’s expression, and it was gone before Rachel could blink. Blue eyes scoured Rachel, taking in the likely disheveled appearance Rachel had given himself with the harried journey here. Probably the post-sickness pale to his cheeks as well.

Mikey’s shoulders sagged. “Shit, really? That. That really sucks. I’m sorry for snapping, it’s just-” He blinked rapidly. “-I was so scared you weren’t coming _back_ , asshole.”

And then he hugged Rachel.

What.

Rachel tensed up in the sudden hug, hyper aware of how the strange boy was holding onto him. And of how Mikey’s hands were still shaking against his back, fingers tight in his jacket’s fabric.

“We just found each other- you can’t just _disappear like that._ I. I can’t go find you if you do- not without leaving Donnie and Leo, and- _fuck._ Don’t fucking scare me like that anymore. _Please.”_

Mikey’s wild hair tickled the side of Rachel’s face as he pushed his forehead into Rachel’s shoulder. Mikey was still shaking a little, and he sniffled ever so slightly.

The familiarity of the hug struck Rachel suddenly, and the dream of himself and Mikey came back to him in that moment.

Brother, huh?

“…I’m sorry,” Rachel said, and he slowly curled his arms around Mikey’s back to reciprocate the hug. “I didn’t mean to.”

Mikey almost sagged into the hug, and Rachel was luckily strong enough to hold the extra weight.

“Just. Don’t do it anymore, okay?” Mikey whispered in Rachel’s ear. “Please. I can’t. I can’t stand it when I don’t know if you guys are alright. At least tell me next time you’re going to. Leave.”

Rachel couldn’t remember the last time someone asked that of him. His uncle and cousins let him do what he wanted, and check-ins were sparse. No one had actively worried about him like this since… possibly junior high, maybe grade school.

A distant part of Rachel knew people were watching their spectacle, of a girl and a boy who’d met just a little while ago embracing in the middle of the room.

A more present part of Rachel was focused on the kid clinging to him like a lifeline, who’d called him brother.

“I’ll try,” Rachel said. And he would. If or when he left, he’d at least leave a note. “And. Um. I had a dream.”

Mikey stiffened in Rachel’s hold.

“…a lot of dreams, actually,” Rachel amended. His filled sketchbook was proof of his dreaming. “I think. I think I might believe you now. Sort of. Maybe.”

Mikey leaned away from him slowly, wide eyes boring into Rachel’s. He looked so hopeful.

“Really?” He asked in a soft voice, and the trembling was back in his arms. Rachel could feel it against his jacket.

Rachel nodded hesitantly. “I’ve seen enough movies to know what this sort of thing amounts to, so unless crazy really is catching… I’m fairly certain there’s at least a little truth to what you’ve been telling me.”

Watching Mikey’s expression right then was a little like seeing the sun come up. Steadily glowing, and hard to look at.

Rachel let out a surprised _oof_ as Mikey yanked him into another tight embrace.

“Oh my god- first Donnie and now you, too? This is _great!_ I knew you’d come around, I _knew_ you would, Raph!”

Rachel chose to let the name thing slide, focusing on patting Mikey’s back to tap out. “Yeah, s-sure you did. Now let go of me, you’re bruising my ribcage.” Not to mention how uncomfortable it was, having someone squish his breasts like that.

“Right! Right,” Mikey released him, stepping back a couple inches and putting his hands behind him. He was grinning like a loon, and there was a definite gloss to his eyes. “Sorry, I’m just super glad you believe me. Like, really, really glad.”

Rachel readjusted his jacket, pulling the sleeves of his long-sleeve shirt back down since they’d gotten scrunched in the hug. “You’re welcome, I guess. I’m just sorry it took me so long to… well, believe it.” Even if it’d been a confrontational dream, there’d been an undercurrent of intrinsic trust and affection towards Mikey from his- past self? Other self? Dream self??- in his dream. That had felt real enough he couldn’t deny it any longer. Especially not standing here in front of this kid, who was swiping at his eyes and grinning like Rachel had hung the moon just for him.

Then Mikey blinked at him, did what looked like a double take, and then gaped.

Rachel bristled, the warm feelings receding immediately. “What, I got something on my face?”

Mikey looked utterly floored by something.

“You’re _shorter than me.”_

What.

For fuck’s sake.

Rachel bristled for real. “I’ve been shorter than you this whole time, so fucking what?”

Mikey flailed his arms. “But. What?? You were always taller than me, even when we were kids!”

Rachel nearly rolled his eyes out of their sockets. “We didn’t know each other when we were kids.”

“Last time we did!” Mikey continued to look distressed for a moment, before a new expression dawned on him.

“Oh my god. I’m finally taller than you,” He said in a slightly giddy voice. He grinned just as. “Oh my god, _I’m finally taller than you!”_

Rachel narrowed his eyes at the idiot boy who was half a head taller than him. “Yeah, and those kneecaps sure look vulnerable.”

Mikey just laughed breathlessly. “It only took- what, another few decades, a second try at puberty, and a whole new life?? But oh my god I did it. I’m _taller than you.”_

Those kneecaps were _so_ very vulnerable. “Why is this such a big deal to you, Jesus Christ.”

“You guys tormented me _all the time_ for being the shortest when we were growing up! This is! Such a big deal!!” Mikey started laughing again, loud enough the security guards that had been watching the two of them started to give glares. “Oh god- this might actually make up for you disappearing off the face of the earth so many times. Ha ha. Okay, I’m good. I’m good. You’re forgiven.” A pause, as Mikey bit his lip, then, “Sssssss _ssssssohmygod-”_

Mikey leaned on the table next to them, clutching his sides and laughing. Rachel stared at him, debating the worth of sticking around to listen to some mental patient- who may or may not have been his brother in a past life- mock him for being short.

But, the mockery didn’t actually seem malicious. If anything, Rachel thought Mikey was laughing for a different reason now, as he tried and failed to get the semi-hysterical giggling under control.

“You have problems, man.”

“Oh god- I _know,_ dude, I _know,”_ Mikey managed to get out, wheezing. He sucked in a breath, coughing as he sat down in the nearest chair. “Okay. Okay, I’m good. I’m good. Sorry, that was just. Such a shock, I kind of lost my cool. Ooh boy, oh my sides. Ow.”

Rachel slid into his own seat, putting his elbows on the table as he watched Mikey remember how to breathe right.

The real yet unreal Mikey from his dream came back to him, and Rachel compared the two versions. They seemed nearly identical, but there was just… ever so slightly something different between this Mikey and the other.

Maybe it was that he hadn’t seen the other one smiling yet.

“So what now?” Rachel asked, putting those thoughts aside for later.

Mikey seemed to consider that question, tilting his head and starting to tug at one of the longer coils of his hair. Someone needed to get this kid a haircut, it was nearly shoulder length.

“Well, you’re on board now, and so’s Donnie, and Leo is a hundred percent with me on things, so…” Mikey shrugged. “I guess at this point, all that’s left is for us to break out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, that sure was a chapter.
> 
> i feel like i write too much of raph's POV, but it's such a comfortable one for me? not to mention gives you guys /just/ enough of a view about things without too much being revealed of other characters' internal dialogue (IE mostly mikey's).
> 
> where do we go from here? well, plot defining choices for one thing, not to mention kicking off the road to recovery. the wrap up to this story is getting close, which means that the sequel will soon begin :D!! i hope you're all as excited as i am, it has all the moments and scenes i've been cultivating in my mentalscape for months now. i can't wait to share them all.
> 
> and we reached three hundred kudos!! wow! thank you all for that readership, your support and comments, as always, mean so much to me. even if i sometimes don't have energy to respond to you all individually, please know i read and treasure every comment you've given me. they make my life brighter, and help me to make myself feel good about myself and my writing.
> 
> see you all soon, thank you all again. <3


	16. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wait did i ever add the 'domestic abuse' tag??
> 
> *checks own tags*
> 
> fuck, no i did not.
> 
> uh, shit. okay. everyone, trigger warnings: referenced past abuse, emotional and physical, and expectation of future abuse. please take care of yourselves.

Donnie stared blankly. For once, there was total silence in his head.

Not anxiety free of course, he hadn’t been that in _months,_ but silent out of struck dumb disbelief of what he’d just heard.

“Excuse me, what??” He asked.

Mikey smiled brilliantly. Insanely. The two were synonymous when it came to him.

“A jailbreak, bro,” Mikey repeated, to the stunned silence Donnie and Leo were sharing. “Like, out of the _Shawshank Redemption_ or something.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. Leo looked like his brain was experiencing a complete stall of functions. Mikey continued to smile like the suggestion wasn’t fucking crazy.

Donne physically regretted getting up that morning. He’d been called into the visiting room not ten minutes after Mikey took off running, and he and Leo had been sat down at the same table Rachel and Mikey were at. Seeing Rachel was a surprise; Donnie had honestly expected the girl to cut her losses and flip them the middle finger on her way out. It’s what he would have done.

But, no, she came back, and now Mikey was displaying even further signs of insanity. Donnie missed his endless supply of coffee and wifi with a passion; it would have made everything so much less excruciating to deal with.

How was he even supposed to approach this? There were no existing guidelines he knew of anywhere in his memory. Okay, okay, scenario time: how would they react depending on each answer he might give?

 _You’re insane_ was a nice contender if he felt like potentially pissing them off. _You’ve been watching too many movies_ was also good, but might have a similar effect as the first. _My grandfather would kill me_ also jumped right to the forefront of his mind. And put a spike of fear down his spine. For multiple reasons.

“…how would we even do that?” He settled on. Treat it like a hypothetical, without denying or supporting. Perfect. They couldn’t pin him into anything if he didn’t state his full opinion on the idea.

“Well… I dunno, how we usually do?” Mikey said with a shrug. “Or did, I guess. You’d be surprised how many times we had to break out of places; we got pretty damn good at it.”

More past life things, lovely. “And _how_ did we pull those escapes off, exactly?” Donnie asked pointedly, ignoring the soft buzz of anxiety in his hands and skull.

“I’d break something, or piss someone off, or you’d hack things, or Raph would punch someone, or Leo would piss someone off _and_ punch them… sometimes we’d just trick someone into letting their guard down and shank ‘em when they weren’t looking. Or neck snapping. That worked on most droids and humans, ha. Aliens were a bit more of a trick, since Leo tried to neck snap one the fifteenth time you got us put in jail for stealing, and the guy’s neck had no freaking _bones,_ and he just- let his neck turn all the way around, god it was _so nasty,_ the freaking squelch is made, like-”

Mikey proceeded to make a disgusting sound with his tongue, and Donnie grit his teeth. He’d never heard that sound before, and never, ever wanted to hear it again.

“Aliens?” Rachel asked with a resigned tone.

“We went to space, remember?” Mikey said, like that explained everything about the context. “Fun times, we pretty much got a new bounty on us every system we visited.”

“Of course we did.”

“We’re _breaking out?”_ Leo suddenly said, apparently getting onto the next page finally. Not the one they were currently on- extraterrestrial life in another universe, good god- but closer. Leo gave Mikey a distressed look. “We can’t do that, that’s illegal. We’re- we’re wards of the state, and diagnosed to require medical treatment. Mikey, we can’t just. _Leave.”_

“Sure we can! We’ve done this plenty of times,” Mikey said brightly. “And keep your voice down, Leo. We don’t want folks catching wind or nothing.”

Leo’s mouth formed a tight grimace, and it looked like he was trying to not make a lot of upset noises. Donnie could relate.

He sighed, and pushed his glasses up to rub at the sore bridge of his nose. He hadn’t been able to take them off last night; an odder amount of paranoia than usual making it impossible. If he took them off, someone might take them while he was asleep. Then he wouldn’t be able to read anymore, or have a clear picture of people’s expressions to watch and judge, and the unrelenting, exhaustive terribleness of his life would get 300% worse.

Thank you intrusive anxiety and paranoia, never a friend he needed less.

Donnie opened his eyes, and returned to the conversation. Leo seemed to be quietly and quickly explaining why they should _stay_ in the facility, and Rachel was sitting in her chair looking regretful of many things. Mikey was firing back reasons why they should _leave_ the facility and Donnie only caught a little bit of the reasoning. It involved better food being an incentive, among other things.

“Going back to my original point,” Donnie said, raising his voice over the quiet clamor. His anxiety notched upwards, but it was manageable. He’d been doing alright the last few weeks, dealing with Mikey and Leo regularly. “ _How_ would we pull this off? Because from where I’m standing, we’d have nowhere to go, no viable funds, and no way to even get close to the town limits before someone found us out. _And,_ they’d have all the information they needed to track us down even if we got away; seeing as they could hand over our social security numbers, medical records, and general government identification to the police. They’d have us within a day or less.”

Rachel gave Donnie a long look. “You sound pretty knowledgeable on the subject.”

Donnie allowed a moment of pride for that comment. “I’m a genius, and it doesn’t even take one to know those things.” If the men and women his grandfather and he dealt with were any indications. Honestly, some of them were barely sentient. Donnie wasn’t sure how they’d avoided being put in jail years ago.

Mikey grinned a toothy grin at him, enthused by Donnie’s critiques for some reason. “Well, you’d obviously be the one to take care of all the technical stuff, keep them from finding us again and whatever. That was a thing you did a lot last time around; anyone who found even a hint of us never found it again, since you’d destroy the info before they could do anything with it. Ha ha, you’ll get to stretch those old hacking skills again, Dee. I know you’ll love it.”

How did Mikey know- wait, no, stupid question he wasn’t even going to ask in the privacy of his thoughts. It was just safer to assume Mikey knew nearly everything and deal with that best he could. Mostly by ignoring it and moving forwards to avoid an anxiety attack.

On the bright side of things, at least he finally knew why Mikey wanted him in the group so badly. Shit social skills be damned; a hacker of his level was invaluable. Money, specs, coding- Donnie could do almost anything so long as he was given time and space. His apparent past self had done similarly, and it put things into better perspective of just what role he’d played in things.

Everyone involved in illegal enterprises, including ones involving illegal aliens in a country (ha, illegal aliens), needed someone to play the role he could play. It finally made sense why Mikey and the others would put up with Donnie’s anxiety and snappish attitude; he was indispensably useful to their survival.

Leo turned a surprised (and mildly unsettled) look on Donnie. “You can hack, um, computers? Really?”

Donnie debated how to answer that, and decided to let himself smile slyly, just a tad smugly. It was one of the few things he could safely be proud of about himself. “I can hack computers alright. I can hack them and pretty much anything else, given time and resources.”

Rachel raised one eyebrow, while Mikey smiled in a fond way. Leo just looked concerned.

“That sounds like something right out of… you know what,” Rachel shook her head. “Forget I tried to say that, we’ve already covered everything here sounds fake as hell.”

“So could you do it?” Mikey asked, leaning onto the table towards Donnie. “I mean, of course you could, but _will_ you?”

Would Donnie? If they tried to go through would this, would he help?

The idea of going outside into the world, leaving his fate in the hands of, well, _fate_ … didn’t sound appealing. No consistent surroundings, no guaranteed safety, no certainty to anything.

And, his grandfather would be furious if he tried to run away. He’d put years into raising Donnie, and their family legacy rested on Donnie’s thin shoulders. It would be worse than every embarrassing panic attack Donnie had ever had in public, even the one that had put him into the facility; him running away. His grandfather would…

Donnie didn’t even want to think about it. His chest felt tight and his head was buzzing. He needed to stop thinking about it, period.

“I don’t know,” Donnie said. Neutral, non-antagonistic. A good stance to have. “I… need time to think.”

Mikey frowned momentarily. He didn’t seem to like that answer very much.

“…if you’re worried about a getaway driver… I got a car, and a license,” Rachel offered. “I’ve got a couple cars, actually. And a place you guys could crash until we got the heck out of dodge.”

“Your folks won’t mind?” Mikey asked, shifting his focus (thank god) away from Donnie.

“ _Ha,_ I doubt it. They’re never around enough to tell if I’ve had people over or not.”

Well, that was one thing. Feasibly, Donnie _could_ get rid of the information the institution had on them, given he was allowed access into the mainframe. And once he did that, it would greatly reduce the information the police would have to work with, and if they got out and across state borders before anyone could catch them…

No, those were dangerous thoughts to think. His grandfather-

“Wait,” Mikey said, suddenly getting a confused look on his face. “You can drive?”

“…Mikey, how the hell did you think I kept getting out here?” Rachel asked in a slow _duh_ sort of voice.

“But- since when do they let kids drive cars?? Unless this universe is even weirder than I noticed.”

Rachel gave Mikey a _look._ “Dude, I’m eighteen and a half. I can drive a fucking car.”

Mikey’s mouth dropped open.

_“What?!”_

“I’m visibly older than you, how did this escape your notice.”

“But- no!” Mikey flailed in his chair. “We’re all supposed to be the same ages! What the hell!”

“How old are you?”

_“Sixteen and a half!”_

“I’m seventeen and seven months,” Donnie supplied, watching Mikey’s expression of confusion get worse. Ha, it was actually a little hilarious; the weird things that would trip him off balance, like few things did.

Mikey gaped at both Donnie and Rachel. “What??”

“I’m- I’m sixteen?” Leo said, awkwardly raising his hand.

Mikey put a hand over his heart, and looked like he was relieved. “Okay, okay, phew. At least one of you guys is on level with me.” Then he paused. “Wait, when’s your birthday?”

“February twentieth. Why?”

Mikey’s horror came back.

“Mine’s a month earlier! Oh my god- you’re _younger_ than me?!”

“Uh- yes?”

Mikey stared at them all, dumbstruck and disturbed.

Rachel glanced at Donnie, and Donnie shrugged at her questioning look. He didn’t get what the big deal here was, either.

Mikey continued to look like his world had just been flipped on its head. He ran a hand through his wild hair three times, blinked rapidly, and then said, “What the hell, we’re all mixed up. Leo’s supposed to be eldest, and _I’m_ the youngest, and Raph’s second and Donnie’s third- _what happened??”_

“You did say we got reincarnated,” Rachel said in a dry tone. Oh ho, she was smiling a little. Maybe she thought Mikey’s comical distress was also funny. “It’s not that much of a stretch to add in that our order’s been shifted around.”

Leo tapped his fingers together, giving a shy glance at them all. “I. I for one am fine with this being how it is, honestly. Being the eldest sounds. Difficult.”

Rachel glanced at Donnie. “Trade ya?”

“No thanks,” Donnie said without pause. Unofficially in charge of this disaster in motion? Not in his wildest dreams, thanks.

“This is honestly the weirdest thing I’ve experienced in a long-ass time,” Mikey said in a serious tone, looking out the windows of the visiting room like he was searching for something.  “And guys, I have seen some _weird shit_.”

Donnie hummed, feeling emboldened. “Weider than someone intruding into your life, refusing to leave you alone, and insisting you were bipedal mutant tetrad _brothers_ in another universe?”

“…okay, it’s weird for you guys, but normal for me, see? This, _this_ is the weird shit for me. God.”

“I need a cigarette,” Rachel muttered.

“I need _coffee,”_ Donnie said in response.

“What, they don’t give you your fix here?”

“Not since my grandfather so helpfully wrote down that I had an addiction to it,” Donnie paused. “Well. I do. But so does the greater majority of humanity.”

“A-fucking-men to that.”

“I’m having an existential crisis,” Mikey said, still looking out the window.

“Good,” Donnie sniped. “You know how it feels now.”

“It feels shitty.”

“Welcome to our world,” Rachel sniped along with Donnie.

Mikey cracked a grin, and finally looked back at them. “I missed you guys doing this.”

“Doing-” “-what?” Donnie and Rachel said simultaneously, and then turned offended looks on each other. The fuck?

Mikey grinned wider. “Being assholes to people at the same time, always hilarious to watch. I swear, you could peel the paint off a wall the way you tore into people.”

Donnie raised one eyebrow, and then lowered when he caught Rachel doing the same. It sounded like his old self didn’t deal with crippling anxiety issues, then, and could interact regularly with people without shutting down. Nice for him; at least one of them hadn’t been a dysfunctional individual.

“That doesn’t sound very nice,” Leo mumbled off-handedly.

“Eh, we all had our moments. Dee and Raph- sorry, Rach, just tended to go off at people more than us, and they were better at it anyways-”

“Back to the reason everyone got hauled together,” Rachel spoke up, cutting off Mikey’s further explaining about their old selves. Perhaps she was as done with the past self talk as Donnie was starting to feel. “Can we talk- quietly- a little more about the whole escaping thing? Because I personally don’t want this to go to shit and get me thrown in jail.”

“Right, right, sorry,” Mikey said, shaking his head and making his coils bounce. “Donnie would take care of the tech stuff, you drive us out and get us across state lines, we keep going until we find-”

“Guys, guys we _can’t,”_ Leo insisted, interrupting the Mikey’s (very rough sounding) planning. Leo stared at them all, anxious and wide eyed. “This is _really illegal._ I-I’m already in hot water for things I did; I can’t put another mark on my record. They might. They might not let me see you guys again for a long time if I did.”

Rachel’s eyes slid to Leo, casually interested. “And what hot water did you get into, exactly? I’d like to know just who I’d be sitting in an enclosed space with.”

Leo froze, visibly stalling. He looked terrified, enough that he was tensed to run.

Oh right. Rachel didn’t know about Leo’s past as a repeat offender for assault. In some moments, even Donnie could briefly forget; spending time with a boy who flinched when people came too close and spent the rest of the time spaced out with a sleepy gaze. Not exactly the persona of a violent criminal, and Donnie had observed plenty of those to know the type.

How would Rachel react, knowing Leo was in fact someone of danger to her person? Maybe she’d finally leave.

“Leo’s record isn’t important,” Mikey said, stepping metaphorically between Rachel and Leo. “He’s just got a lot of shitty people on his case for things that weren’t his fault.” Leo looked like he wanted to say contrary, but Mikey kept going. “What’s important is getting him, Donnie, and me out of this place.”

Rachel frowned. “Hey, I’m the one who’d be driving into the sunset with you guys, and last I checked, I’m not one of the admitted mental patients. I’m allowed to be uncomfortable with letting some kid in my car I don’t know the past of.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mikey insisted. “Leo’s past is the past and it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s got us now, and he’ll be fine if we get ourselves out of here. We’ll all be fine if we do.”

Donnie’s hands found the hem of his shirt, and he started picking at it. Closing his senses down to pulling apart the thread, and listening to the conversation. The semi-comfortable feeling of sniping and poking at Mikey was gone; the situation was getting tenser and Donnie was as well. This wasn’t fun anymore.

He glanced up again, briefly calculating the levels of aggression in the other three table members. Leo looked stricken; Mikey defensive. Rachel looked similarly, but with suspicion in place as well.

“That’s not how it works, Mikey,” Leo said in a small voice.

“Yes it _does.”_

“I’m with him on this,” Rachel said, narrowed green eyes watching Mikey and Leo closely. “If I’m going to put myself at risk for you all, I want to know what sort of shit Leo’s got on his record. From the sounds of it, it’s bad enough he’d get locked up.”

Donnie nearly felt the flinch that went through Leo. Donnie went back to picking at his shirt hem; steadily pulling the tiny threads apart with careful methodical work. They’d just give him a new one later anyways.

Neither Mikey nor Rachel was budging.

“I want an explanation.”

“It’s Leo’s explanation to give, and he doesn’t want to. You don’t need to hear it to trust us, to trust him. We’re family.”

Rachel scoffed. “I’ve known you all for under two months. We ain’t shit.”

This time Mikey flinched.

“How can you _say that?”_

“Easily. Truth comes out or we don’t do anything remotely like escaping, got it?”

A beat of silence.

“…Leo, what do you say? It’s your choice.”

Donnie risked a glance up again.

Leo was taking a turn looking at his lap, hunched on himself and trying to be small. Mikey and Rachel were both watching him; two types of intensity between them.

Leo swallowed, and slowly looked up at Rachel. “I…” He said haltingly. “I… have blankouts. I get startled by something, and I. Hurt people. Accidentally. I- I never mean to, it just happens. Please, I really don’t mean for it to happen. I’ve never, _ever_ wanted to hurt anybody, I’m-” He stopped, took a deep breath. “I’m here because I need help. And it’s why I can’t leave. I’m sorry.”

Rachel stared at him for a long moment, and then slowly sank backwards into her chair. “…well, that’s rough,” She said in a careful tone. “You can’t control it?”

Leo dropped his eyes, shrinking. “No. I’m sorry.”

Rachel sighed, and looked away. The tense moment hung, making Donnie’s anxiety increase the longer it did.

“But its fine,” Mikey said abruptly, giving a stubborn look to Rachel and Leo both. Neither of them met his eyes. “The doctors here are going at it all wrong, which is why he can’t. It’s why we’re all still here, period. They’re doing it wrong, which isn’t helping any of us, and really the only thing for it is for us to breakout and take care of things ourselves. They can’t help us, not with our shit. You know I’m right, right?”

“Mikey…” Leo started to say.

“We need to get _out_ of here, Leo,” Mikey said, tapping his pointer finger on the table. “God, it’s _horrible_ being in here. Watching both of you get wound up and fucked up by- by these _assholes._ We don’t need anything they’re trying to push on us; we just need some fresh air and time to get to know each other again. That’s all.”

“I don’t know about that, kid,” Rachel said, and internally, Donnie agreed.

“It worked before,” Mikey said, getting tenser. “We went through bad shit before and came out stronger for it. Hell, we barely needed our dad to help us. We helped each other, and we were fine. We _don’t need to be here.”_

“Yes we _do,_ Mikey,” Leo said. “We all need to. We need treatment, _I_ need treatment-”

 _“No you don’t!”_ Mikey exclaimed harshly.

Donnie froze. His nerves jangled, the tone to Mikey’s voice setting off alarms in his head.

His palms were slick and his throat clenched. His heart thundered in his ears, and he waited for the other shoe to drop.

 _(There it was there it was he_ knew _it was coming-)_

Rachel and Leo stared openly at Mikey, whose fists were curled on top of the table; his shoulders hunched and his eyes sharp. Thick tension filled the air, strangling Donnie-

-until Mikey closed his eyes, reopened them, and relaxed his posture. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just… you don’t need it, Leo. None of us do. These guys can’t do anything to help us, only we can. Trust me.”

Leo looked… at a loss. Unsure of how to respond to that, and left looking at Mikey wide eyed. Silent and confused.

Rachel took in a long breath, and let it out slowly. She looked as uncomfortable with things as Leo did.

Donnie felt a little like he was coming back from drowning.

 _“Visiting hours are now over,”_ The loudspeaker said pleasantly above their heads. _“Please make your way to the exit. We reopen tomorrow at one in the afternoon. We thank you for your cooperation, and have a nice evening.”_

Rachel sighed tiredly, rubbing her eyes. “That’s me, then. When’re we meeting next, since this got us exactly nowhere?”

Mikey glanced between all of them, relaxed posture in place, but a sharpness still in his eyes.

“Two days. Can you do three?”

“…I’ll make it, yeah. No shift that day.”

“Great,” Mikey said, standing up from their table. “Everyone sleep on it, since you apparently have to.” And then he stalked off, leaving the rest of them behind; glancing back only once before exiting the room back into the ward.

Leo wilted in his seat, once again wearing a stricken expression. It nearly broke through the haze of adrenaline pumping through Donnie’s system; the reflex to find somewhere to make himself scarce harshly pushing at his mind. But, it wasn’t enough.

Donnie wanted to lie down. He wanted his music, and dark, and _aloneness._ He wanted to rewind that conversation to when it had been bickering and sniping; not Mikey finally losing his temper (like Donnie had known he eventually would).

 _(How long until he_ really _snaps? That was the real question.)_

Rachel glanced at Donnie and Leo, seemed like she wanted to say something, but ended up saying only, “Sorry. That didn’t go how I wanted it to.”

Donnie couldn’t even reply _me either_ , too choked to do so.

Leo remained mutely miserable.

Rachel looked towards Leo, a gentler expression taking the place of her earlier suspicion. “Hey, before I go, I, uh, don’t really know the whole story to what you told me, but… I dunno. You don’t seem that bad to me. Sorry for the grilling. I’m just. Not looking to take serious chances if I can avoid them. Not a lot of folks look out for people like me. It’s not personal.”

Leo scoffed. It sounded oddly harsh, coming from him.

“…’kay, I’ll see you guys in two days. Have a good one.”

And then she left, along with the rest of the straggler visitors.

Heady panic and adrenaline still clogged Donnie’s systems as he stood cautiously. He forced his legs and arms to un-tense enough to walk; stiffly making his way to the door as the nurses waved them out. Leo followed like a shadow, and Donnie fought the discomfort of having someone where he couldn’t see them. Especially one in such a bad mood.

“She’s scared of me,” Leo whispered, once they were closer to the roaming ward again.

Donnie couldn’t answer. He was focusing on keeping his legs moving.

“And Mikey’s mad at me.”

One foot in front of the other. Breathing. In and out.

“…if you guys really want to leave, maybe you should just forget me.”

Don’t fall apart. Breathe.

“…I’m sorry.”

_(Why? What for?)_

“Donnie?”

Leo moved too close- just a step closer, _god,_ what a broken piece of junk he was- and Donnie flinched in on himself. Leo stepped backwards quickly.

“I’m sorry. Donnie, I’m sorry.”

The lights were too bright. Too much noise around them as dinner grew closer and the staff got busier. His head was buzzing and he had too much static in it to think straight.

“…Donnie?”

Donnie couldn’t look at Leo. He couldn’t even glance in Leo’s direction. He shook his head, and turned away; arms around himself and eyes glued to the floor.

Leo didn’t call after him. Donnie felt badly for leaving, but he _couldn’t speak._ Couldn’t think, couldn’t hear anything outside the overwhelming ambient sounds around him. People, voices, conversation, machines and electronic doors- too much too much-

His grandfather wouldn’t kill him if he ran away. He’d just hit Donnie’s ears and yell at him until he saw sense again. Maybe dig out the cane he hadn’t used since Donnie was a child; get his shins, too. Thorough. Methodical. He knew where to hit without really damaging Donnie. His hands, never his hands or eyes; especially after the glasses incident. Those were invaluable; you couldn’t hack without eyes and hands.

Leaving that sounded nice in theory, but Donnie knew he couldn’t actually do it. Not really. He couldn’t even make it to a gas station five blocks down the road from his home without panicking part way. He’d have no way to support himself, and how long would the ragtag group he was spending time with really last? They were all a ticking time bomb and Donnie could see the clock ticking down.

He made it to his room. The knob turned in his hand, and he fumbled numbly with it. He burst inside, and slapped his hand over the switch that only worked during the day. The light went off, and the spiralling panic in his chest slowed slightly.

He moved blindly, relying on memory to find his bed. When he did, and collapsed on the floor in front of it, and pressed his face into the stiff blankets on the mattress. His glasses hurt his face as he did, but he was able to slow his breathing enough that he narrowly avoided hyperventilating.

Three, nine, twenty-seven, eighty-one- _deep breath in,_ and out.

 The floor was a sobering cold. His eyes were shut but he could almost feel the utterly still darkness around him. The door wasn’t locked but at least there was a barrier between him and everything else.

Two hundred and forty-three, seven hundred and twenty-nine, two thousand one hundred and eighty-seven-

_Breathe in._

_Breathe out._

Donnie raised his head enough to remove his glasses. He set them carefully in his lap, where no one might break them, and stared at the blackness around him.

Better. He didn’t feel like he was drowning anymore. Deprive himself of enough input, and he could pull himself back together easy enough. Practice made it a simple formula to follow.

Too bad he didn’t have one to follow for what had just happened.

Donnie shoved that thought away, violently pushing his thoughts to find something else to focus on. He wasn’t going to wind himself back up so soon. The painful, nauseous feelings were not going to fester in his head so badly he had to miss dinner. He’d already been too put off by lunch that he’d barely eaten an apple slice packet.

He couldn’t trust the sanitary levels of the food today. Not with the sneeze he’d caught one of the chefs having.

No, no no no no- not thinking about that either, dammnit.

Six thousand five hundred and sixty-one, nineteen thousand six hundred and eighty-three- _breathing._ Slowly, evenly.

Think about other things. Anything except the problems he was dealing with.

Donnie struggled up and off the cold linoleum, selecting the first book he could remember in that moment- the _Gone_ series, because he was getting that desperate for stimulating reading materials- and replayed some of the more impressionable scenes from the books. The book _Hunger_ from it had been interesting, the slow degradation of an already unbalanced community as the food supply ran out… yes, think about children starving to death and fighting each other with inhuman powers, such a morale booster…

Donnie lay on his bed, arms by his side and his eyes fixed on the black ceiling until he started seeing winding shapes move along it- and then longer, thinking very deeply on the realistic logistics of a _Gone_ novel coming to life, and exactly how he might be able to bargain for his survival in one.

The irony of his selected distraction didn’t escape him. After all, wasn’t that what he was likely going to have to do? Either he agreed and kept his place in the group, or he refused to help and lost what little consistency and protection he had.

As his breathing and baseline calm returned, he tentatively started turning over his issues in his head.

He knew why Mikey wanted him around, now. It made sense. Trouble was, the things he wanted of Donnie would oppose his grandfather’s. And his grandfather’s word trumped all others.

There was a strong likelihood his grandfather would find him, should Donnie attempt the escape. And when he did… well, Donnie had resigned himself to the idea of arthritis and partial deafness in his later years anyways. As long as he had his sight and hands, he’d be fine.

But, what if he got away? What if their group didn’t self-destruct, and Mikey’s far-fetched idea of recreating a family succeeded? What then?

Donnie couldn’t even picture himself in a family. Not a real one. He couldn’t picture himself a part of one at all, let alone actively participating and reciprocating.

Maybe if he’d been raised by his mother and father, but even then unlikely. Donnie knew himself through and through, and he knew this aspect of himself too well to entertain the thought of it.

But, if he got away…

Maybe he could contribute, just a little, to the familial unit Mikey imagined. Enough they’d let him stay, continue to tolerate his eccentricities. Enough he could get a new room, and a new computer rig, and return to the steady tempo he’d had before all this.

But no. He had that at home. He had a routine and a space he knew top to bottom, and he knew his grandfather’s moods and triggers better than anyone’s; he knew which landmines to avoid, and which moments to make himself invisible. Donnie was still observing more and more of those in the three individuals recently inserted into his life. He couldn’t know them all before it became critical to, he’d screw up and hit one on accident, and then where would that leave him?

The _normalcy_ of home called to him strongly, if only because at least there he knew what was what, and how everything was meant to work. Besides, so long as he performed well and stayed out of the way, his grandfather hardly bothered with him that much anymore. Excluding the meeting-future-business-partners incident.

…there was also the factor of him having to take over the family business, and Donnie just… knew he’d be awful at it. Actually interacting with people, face to face, was something he’d always been awful at. He’d just disappoint his grandfather again if he tried a second time, and probably get the same punishment for the failure.

Mikey wanted to give him an out from that. An out from the never changing cycle of approval and disapproval that had always had Donnie locked in. And now that Donnie knew his angle… it made it easier to see where he needed to impress, and where he could slack a little. Sniping and snarking yes, hacking and coding, double yes. Easy enough done; he did both all those things quite well.

But would it be enough? And would the out from his routine similarly be enough? Donnie would be abandoning everything he’d ever built for himself- his one and only spot of safety, even if it never really had been that- and thrusting himself into a completely alien situation. The only familiar factors being Mikey and Leo, and Rachel, to an extent. And those were all such uncertain ones still…

Donnie didn’t know what he wanted to do. Too many choices, too much chance for catastrophic failure.

He clutched his glasses in his right hand, stared at the ceiling, and moved his thoughts back away from the subject until someone came to collect him for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what an emotional roller-coaster, ha ha.
> 
> apologies for not remembering to add trigger warnings for donnie's past prior to this; i'm still learning where people get uncomfortable and i do not. i'll remember from here on out, promise.
> 
> this was supposed to get farther than just chit-chat and anxiety attacks, but whoops these four like to get stuck on problems, so we're dragging things out a little longer. oh well. we'll hit that ending soon enough.
> 
> thanks for all the support, as always, and i hope you all take care of yourselves this fine day.


	17. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i felt compelled to write out the others' reactions to the situation, hence a mikey heavy chapter and a brief leo addition.

Mikey needed to be outside. _Now._

He’d been pacing the white halls around him for _months,_ having to make do with stretching and push-ups in his room to burn energy. It’d been enough to keep him from losing it and prying open a window, but today it wouldn’t be.

Today, he needed to run.

He rolled his pen between his fingers, paying as much attention to the nurse in front of him he could. She was saying something about him having been behaving so well, making excellent progress with his therapy, blah blah blah…

His pen was cool and sleek in his hand, something to focus on besides the thrumming energy pent up inside him. Mikey had forgotten to leave it inside his bedroom that morning, like he usually did. Probably because he’d had such a vivid nightmare he hadn’t been able to go weaponless. Oh well.

 _Smile, play nice_ , he reminded himself. He’d done it long enough; they _had_ to let him outside by now.

And they did, thank god.

The nurse and guard following behind him weren’t concerns; presences he barely gave an afterthought to after the initial onceover. What was important wasn’t them- it was the door opening to the outside, the _real_ outside of the facility. Something he hadn’t seen in months.

Mikey sucked in a deep breath, and thanked life for making some people more merciful than others.

“We don’t have too long now, just remember that,” The nurse said to him. Another lady, though much darker than the first one. He didn’t remember either of their names. “Dinner is only a few hours away, and they’ll want you inside a little before that. Do you remember the rules for outside access?”

“Yeah, I got ‘em,” Mikey said vaguely, spinning his pen between his fingers.

“You can do your running, so long as you don’t leave the pathway.”

He spun his pen faster. “Yeah, yeah, thanks. Can I please go?”

“Yes. Have fun, I’ll be jogging behind you, don’t forget.”

Right, right, fitness nurses or something like that. Helped with the patients that needed exercise; followed them along the outside track and called the guards if one tried to run off or got hurt. Mikey really doubted she could keep up with him, should he want his tail left behind.

But, he couldn’t do that. For one, his brothers were still inside; for another, he did want some food later. Reasons enough to stick around still, even if his head was itchy with energy and anger and a whole bunch of other sharp, painful feelings.

He needed to start running, before those feelings got too much to handle.

He slipped his pen into his pocket, and took off.

No stretching. If he pulled something, it’d just be a way to remind himself of the present situation. He also just didn’t give a fuck.

The wind whipped past his ears, blowing his hair out of his face completely. His borrowed running sneakers hit the ground with dull thuds over and over; each step getting faster and lighter. His heart started pounding differently than it had earlier, listening to Leo spew that brainwashed crap the doctors were feeding him, earnestly telling Mikey they had to stay they _had to stay-_

Mikey couldn’t help the frustrated snarl he made. It slipped out on its own.

And Donnie, who clearly hated his home, his grandfather under his own admittance, was _hesitating,_ even though this was the best option for them all. Donnie didn’t hesitate when it came to this sort of thing, if it was good for the family he got it done and there wasn’t any fuss to that, no matter the circumstances-

And yet he was still saying he needed to think, to _think_ about it.

What even was all that about it? Mikey couldn’t understand either of them. Neither of his brothers were happy here, neither of them were getting _better_ here- couldn’t they see that? Couldn’t they understand that escaping would help _all_ of them?

Donnie’s closed and blank expression, Leo’s genuine and pleading one, Rachel’s doubtful and suspicious one-

They all hung in his mind, driving Mikey to run even faster, because they all seemed so wrong. It sparked his temper because of that; he couldn’t make sense of Donnie or Leo’s motivations, their perspectives, and that made him mad.

At least Rachel was on board. At least _she_ had taken things in stride, if with cautious suspicion. Kind of reckless of her, but Mikey had been boosted briefly by that trust. Rachel was different from Raph, but so similar anyways.

But Leo and Donnie. They weren’t making any sense, not acting like the bold leader and steadfast genius Mikey knew them to be. They were denying, _denying_ , the option of freedom Mikey was giving them.

It was confusing. It was hurtful. It was making him more than a little annoyed. It was making him angry.

Mikey’s lungs burned. He hadn’t run this fast in so long, hadn’t been able to stretch himself and his limits like he was used to. He sort of missed high school, as stupid as it had been, because at least there he had access to the track and an excuse to run for hours on it.

Mikey spotted a figure ahead of him. He did a swift examination of them, for weapons, for potential aggression, and then remembered it was just the observing nurse that was following his trail.

Huh. The facility seemed bigger from the inside. Or maybe he was just that lost in thought and running without really taking in how fast he was going.

The nurse gave him a mildly startled look as he passed her, and Mikey didn’t give her a second glance.

He passed short trees and shrubs that dotted the outside of the running track. Or was it just a walkway? He didn’t remember what it was specifically for. All he knew was that it looped most of the facility and was empty of anyone except him and his observing nurse.

Good thing. He wasn’t sure how well he’d handle people in his space at the moment.

Bitter anger was still climbing up his throat, driven by his frustration that his brothers were refusing what he’d been working towards since the very beginning, and by the fact that they still didn’t trust his word completely.

Well. It wasn’t like they’d done that all the time in their past lives, but it still hurt. He was pushing himself to stand living inside an enclosed space, with so many rigid rules and stupid routines, even though most nights he felt like he was trapped inside a shoe box. He needed to be outside, he needed to be able to run and skate and maybe even buy some god damn junk food. He needed to be able to _live,_ not sit inside and let people in white coats tell him what was wrong with his head.

Fuck this, fuck them. Fuck the whole institution and their stupid pills and appointments. Fuck his brothers for denying all the hard work he’d put into setting them up for freedom. God, fuck _life._

Mikey barely bit down on the scream that wanted to come out of his throat.

His ankle rolled abruptly, hitting a crack in the cement.

Mikey lost his balance, stumbled badly, and fell.

Sloppy. He was out of shape and out of practice. He hit the pavement with a painful thud, barely catching himself in a roll before he knocked his skull against it.

He ended up tightly curled there; protecting his tender belly and hands around his skull. Adrenaline pumped through his body, making him shake and breathe heavily. Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy. God.

Mikey slowly forced himself to uncurl, pushing his body off the cement and wincing as his elbows and side complained. He touched his ribs, then his hip. The white of his shirt and pants was stained by dirt, but no red was visible. His elbows however had taken the brunt of the fall, and he’d need to wash out the scrapes there sooner than later. Infection could go so bad so fast; he needed to stay ahead of it or risk being sidelined in a battle, possibly confined to his room for sick leave while his brothers rolled their eyes at his dramatic whining.

Or he might die. There was always that fun possibility for them all, ha.

Overall assessment: he was still in good fighting condition, even if he needed some water and band-aids. Sure, he’d be a little off target if he was trying fancy stuff, but the basic hand to hand he knew would still be alright. But where had his nunchucks gone?

Wait. No, no. No fighting here. Just stupid nurses and doctors. Argh.

Mikey scrubbed his eyes, feeling eyelashes and eyebrows and soft human skin. Human skin that tore a lot easier than scales, hence the elbow scrapes. Duh.

Weird time to slip backwards, even just a little; he was usually better at keeping things straight. Probably was all the stupid stress and anger prickling around in his skull.

Mikey sighed loudly and ran his hands through his tangled curls. He was still panting, experiencing the effects of sprinting at top speed for…

He didn’t actually remember how long. Things had gotten a little tunnel-visioned for a bit there, whoops.

Nice screw up, courtesy of him. Maybe that was why things weren’t working out like he’d thought they would; if he couldn’t even keep his own head in order, what hope did he have in helping his brothers (and sister) manage their own?

Why hadn’t someone else ended up the memory holder? Why _him?_ Nothing was going right, now that they were at a crossroads, and Mikey wasn’t so sure he’d actually be able to do what he’d set out to do.

Leo didn’t want to leave at all. Donnie wasn’t sure yet. Rachel had said yes, but wanted full disclosure of what their stories were, and couldn’t actually help beyond being a getaway driver. Everything depended on Mikey convincing Donnie and Leo.

 _Fuck,_ why did he have to get all the memories. Leo would’ve gotten them all in gear weeks ago with some rousing speech; Donnie could’ve broken them out in a heartbeat with his skills; Rachel as Raph would’ve bullied them all into line and them driven them clean out of dodge.

Mikey couldn’t do those things. He was just trying to push and pull where he could, and appeal to the parts of his brothers (and sister) that remained like their old lives.

The despair that’d dragged him down after Rachel’s disappearance made a second go at Mikey, and he sighed as he drew his legs close to himself. Stinging arms on his knees and his head laid on top.

He was so tired of trying and failing to make his brothers better. Tired of being unable to really actually help any of them. Tired in general.

His leg was being jabbed by his pen, so he pulled it out of his pocket. Mikey examined the thing, the meager weapon and writing tool it was. So he remembered how to puncture someone’s trachea and keep them quiet while they died; whoop-dee-fucking-doo. Didn’t help him any with his current situation.

He’d trade his ninja skills for his brothers’ memories. Or for a portion of their skills that’d made them the leader, the muscle, and the genius of their team. He just had his jokes, his memories, and his desperation to have his family back.

All he wanted was his family back, why couldn’t he have that?

Why couldn’t they also want that back?

Mikey closed his hands around his pen and shook his head. He was just wallowing now; pointless dwelling on things that weren’t going to get any better unless he _tried._

He’d been trying for so long, his whole second life, maybe his first one too- and damn if he was going to stop now.

He’d convince them, he’d do it and he’d get them out of the stupid facility. He’d get them talking and caring like they used to together, show them how much happier they’d be as a family rather than a scattered group, and then they’d all get better.

All they had to do was escape, and they could start working on finding their family dynamic again. Recover their memories and relearn who they all were. Get better in general; getting past touch-phobias and shitty home situations and suspicion towards each other. Be a family again.

Mikey shut his eyes and shook his head vigorously, and reopened his eyes with determination flaring in him once again.

A minor setback, that’s all this was! He just needed to keep pushing forwards until his family saw things his way, and keep reminding them how much happier they’d all be once they got out of the stupid institution. Put a smile on his face and keep his cool, that’s what Mikey was going to do. Be collected as it was possible for him, keep calm in the face of difficulty, and just keep at his goals until they got done.

He swept all the painful and frustrating feelings from before aside, and tucked them far out of his mind.

Mikey needed to focus on the positive of things. Donnie was already on the fence with the idea of escaping; Mikey had seen a flicker of interest in his brother’s red eyes, and he knew that he could turn that flicker into a flame if he tried hard enough. Donnie was the most crucial part of his escape plan; things wouldn’t move forwards smoothly, if at all, if Donnie wasn’t on board. Mikey knew Donnie hated his home, that he hated his guardian; while Mikey hadn’t been given the full disclosure as to why, he had plenty of bad vibes to tell him that he needed to get Donnie out of there. If Donnie ever told him just why he hated home so much, Mikey would listen, and hug him if his brother would allow it, and then judge whether or not he needed to go break someone’s neck.

Leo would be harder, but also might not be. Leo wasn’t the same as Mikey remembered him; he wasn’t so steady, so confident in his own decisions. As much as it bothered Mikey to do so, he could use that. An opponent that hesitated and second guessed themselves left their vulnerable spots open to attack. Leo was far from Mikey’s enemy, but he, in this case, was somewhat an opponent. Leo was already very attached to Mikey, to their whole group likely speaking. He wouldn’t want to be separated from them all, even if it meant leaving behind his ( _stupid pointless harmful_ ) appointments and medication. Leo was, and Mikey hated to admit it, very weak at the moment; easily manipulated into things. It would take a little doing, but…

Mikey hummed, feeling bad and quite regretful for what he would have to do, but nonetheless he would. He’d have to talk Leo into coming with them, with gentle pressuring and careful encouragement. It would leave an awful taste in his mouth to do so, but Mikey would convince Leo to come with them, and possibly have to use underhanded verbal tricks make it happen.

Bleh. That all sounded so slimy and gross, even in his head. The thought of using hard earned ninja skills on his own family was a gut-reaction of _hell no,_ but it would have to happen regardless. Mikey would never do it again if he could help it, or even at all, but… sometimes desperate times called for desperate measures.

Donnie would be someone he’d just have to tip in the right direction, Leo would be a persuasion case that would be delicate but hopefully swift, and Rachel was already on board so she was completely taken care of.

Perfect, a solid plan of action. Leo would be proud. Maybe even their father.

Mikey heard footsteps approaching, and he subtly glanced towards them.

“Hey, are you alright?” The nurse asked as she jogged towards him. Her black curls bounced in her ponytail as she knelt beside him, hands hovering around his elbows. “Goodness, you must’ve taken quite a fall. Anything else hurt?”

Mikey stared at her for a moment, and then smiled. Playing nice once again.

“Nah, nothing much. I’ve been through worse.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure as I can possibly be. Just need some band-aids for the arms.”

“Hm. I’ll need to give you a onceover before we call it all clear, but I’m glad you’re feeling okay. Are you ready to head back?”

She was asking the question as less a question, more of an order of _this is where you say yes and let me take you inside and give you medical assistance._ Mikey had heard the subtext order on and off throughout school years, since he injured himself now and again with dumbass stunts, and been in the nurse’s office pretty frequently.

Mikey nodded amicably, and followed the nurse to her feet. He didn’t need to run much more anyways; he’d gotten his head sorted out, and now there was just the usual restlessness he always had lately. He could handle that easy enough.

He didn’t really feel the need to do more than stretch, wash his cuts quickly and slap a band-aid onto them, but he let the nice nurse lady fuss over him a little. It was kind of pleasant, since Mikey still felt more used to just brushing off non-life-threatening injuries and pushing onwards. Not a whole lot of time or sympathy for little cuts and bruises during a war, after all. Buck up and keep going- that was the motto he’d lived with for a good portion of his teen years. Most of his life, really.

Ah well, that was all over now, and he had a nice lady who was chatting with him like a person and not a patient. No need to think on it.

Mikey returned the borrowed running shoes to the nurse’s desk, said goodbye the security guard and the nurse who’d been watching him, and went whistling on his way. Back into patient roaming wards and headed for his room.

He needed some space from others still. He had a good handle on his emotions and thoughts again, but he wasn’t super keen on throwing himself back into a social situation quite so soon. A little more time and he should be good.

He’d go take some time to meditate- something he’d started doing more lately, for the sake of keeping himself grounded while he waited on his brothers- and think deeper on how he was going to convince Donnie and Leo. Also, how he’d explain things to Rachel without scaring her off (which he doubted would happen at this point. She seemed set on sticking with them, and he was glad for that).

Mikey caught a familiar shape in the corner of his eye, and he glanced towards it as he passed by the media room.

Leo was staring out a window, hand on the glass and eyes fixed somewhere far away. He looked… sad.

Mikey watched him for a moment, and then turned away. The sting of his brother’s refusal was still clinging to him, and he wasn’t so sure how well he’d be able to conduct himself in a conversation. Better to wait and mitigate damage later, when Mikey actually could do so.

He felt shitty for turning away from his troubled sibling, but for the sake of them all, Mikey chose to go collect himself before he made any more moves.

 

 

 

Leo had known it would end.

He’d known, and he’d still somehow thought otherwise.

What did he think was going to happen? That they’d all keep having Rachel visit them and remain happily inside the institution? Leo should have known better, Mikey was too wild to stay in one spot for long; that much he could tell about the boy. And Donnie, Donnie had a life to return to once he was released. A life and a blood family, something Leo had neither of. Even if Donnie claimed to hate his grandfather, he had spoken often of wanting to return to his room and computers.

And Rachel. Rachel had a home, a family, and a life, too. She didn’t have to hold onto the first people to look her way in years, like some desperate leech. She probably had friends, functional people to spend time with. A hundred better things to do than visit them all.

Reincarnated family or not, the ties holding them together were strained and thin. Leo wondered why he’d let himself be deluded that they weren’t.

He put his forehead to the glass in front of him, sighing wearily.

A large part of him was sad, but a larger one knew this had been inevitable. Maybe they weren’t leaving because he’d hurt them, but it wasn’t much different. If Leo left the facility, stopped taking medications, how long until someone was on the floor under his fists again? How long until he was right back in a cell, and this time likely to stay there?

He’d already been so lucky to be put in the facility instead of jail; only because of his foster home’s caretaker had he been spared jail time. If he ran away and got caught, or worse, ran away and actually _killed_ someone this time- nothing would save him.

And the someone he’d probably hurt first, possibly _kill_ \- would be one of the people closest to him. His only friends, his (hopeful) family. He’d be with them for extended time periods, in their spaces and treated like an average person-

And then something would set him off, and that would all be destroyed.

Leo was terrified. He didn’t want to lose them, but he also didn’t want to hurt them. His brothers, his sister, his _family._ He’d only known them for such a short amount of time, but the gut feeling inside him told him what they all were to him, whether he consciously could remember or not.

He couldn’t live with himself if he hurt them badly, if he so much as bumped their shoulders. He’d already done so many awful things- he couldn’t take that. Not them, anyone but them.

Better they leave him here, before that happened. Leave him with memories of having people to care for, if only briefly, and them remember him not as a threat but as a friend. As a brother.

That’s all he wanted. That’s all he could hope for.

Leo had known it wouldn’t last, like it never did, but he’d wished it would anyways. Believed for a short while that things could turn out differently this time.

_(Better they go now than later, better they leave him than he keep clinging to them until they broke. Better this end before it became a tragedy.)_

It would be hard at first, to readjust to loneliness and having a constant bubble around him, but he would anyways. Familiarity would probably make it easier to slip back into.

But, it probably wouldn’t be. Not after getting a small taste of what real affection and care could feel like. Warm hugs and genuine smiles and the chance at having something real and loving- Leo would ache in a painful way to give that all up. Say goodbye to the only people who’d ever seen him as someone more than just a burdensome acquaintance or charge. Say goodbye to a mishmash group of people who had been his family, once.

Leo took his head off the window pane to wipe his eyes briefly; banishing the stinging there.

It wasn’t fair, but things rarely were for him.

_(Maybe because he didn’t deserve them to be.)_

He’d keep quiet about the escape; give Donnie and Mikey a chance to go find lives of their own. They’d do fine, since they had Rachel and each other to get by with. They didn’t need Leo, he’d just slow them down until he snapped and broke someone’s bones.

He’d stay in the facility. He’d get his treatment. He’d hopefully one day be able to walk back out into the world and find them again, when he could trust that he wouldn’t hurt them by accident.

It was better this way. Better for everyone.

That didn’t mean his heart didn’t ache to go with them anyways, even if it would put them all at risk.

But that was selfish, and Leo had been selfish long enough.

He’d let them go. He’d stay, and he’d hope he could find them again one day.

It was better this way.

His eyes stung, and Leo hid his sniffles. No one heard them, or noticed the momentary shaking to his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not as long as i would have liked, but the scenes mostly write themselves so i couldn't really do anything about it.
> 
> phhhbt, why are these four so dramatic. yeesh. but i guess that's just what happens when you throw a bunch of mentally ill kids into a barrel, shake well, and toss 'em out to see if you get snake eyes.
> 
> wonder which sort of roll we'll end up with at the final, just gotta shake 'em around a little more before then....


	18. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a tad short, but i didn't get to finish the second half before i needed to go to the dentist.

Donnie was expecting it to happen, and it did.

During the day after the somewhat disastrous meeting with Rachel, Mikey came and sat down directly from Donnie. No show, no cheery greeting; none of the usual pizazz that usually accompanied Mikey’s entrances.

Donnie slowly looked up from his novel- the fourth _Gone_ novel, not the third, as much as that _drove him nuts,_ because the library didn’t _have_ the third book- and he met Mikey’s eyes evenly.

Mikey, against his usual persona, was looking collected, calm, and more mature than Donnie had ever seen him.

Donnie closed his book, sliding into place the scrap of napkin he’d been using as a bookmark. He folded hands on the table, elbows up and shoulders slightly tensed.

_(“Be assertive. Do not let them see your weaknesses, Donghai. They will be looking for them, and if you waver for even a second- they will strip you of everything.”)_

That advice was more for illegal negotiation tactics, but in a sense, Donnie saw that they fit quite well into the situation at hand.

Even if it made a nervous feeling climb up his spine; electric and uncomfortable. This had been planned; Leo was in a therapy session, which left Donnie and Mikey uninterrupted for at least another forty minutes. Whatever Mikey was going to say was meant to be between them and only them.

It was somewhat unnerving, how quick Mikey would go from spontaneous to premeditative. It made it incredibly hard for Donnie to pin down reactions likely to come from the other boy, and that in itself was an anxiety worthy issue.

“It’s barely been a day,” Donnie said, breaking the subtle stare down. He tried to not lose his nerve in doing so, pressing his right pointer finger into his left palm and digging in his nail. He waited for Mikey to respond. The other boy hadn’t been at breakfast with them, or been around for any morning activities available to patients.  This would be the first time all day Donnie would hear the other patient speak.

“I know,” Mikey replied, utterly calm. “but this isn’t something that can really wait all that long. Strike while the iron is hot, right?”

Donnie didn’t waver- _(“-do not let them see your weaknesses-”)-_ as he sat perfectly still, waiting for Mikey to continue. His nail dug a little deeper into his palm, grounding him.

“Anyways,” Mikey did eventually continue. “you know why I’m here, and I know you’re on the fence about even listening to me talk. So, can I?”

Donnie considered for a moment, drawing out the pause long as he could stand it.

“Yes,” He said shortly. “But I reserve the right to leave whenever I- want.” Risky. Risky, risky, risky. But he needed to see if he could demand the right to end this when _he_ wanted to, not Mikey. He needed that out, in case he started panicking.

“Course,” Mikey agreed, easy as breathing. “Just say when.”

Donnie tried to not blink in surprise. That had been… really easy.

Mikey didn’t wait more than a second after that to keep talking. “So. It’s like this. You know as well as I do that I can’t get us all out of here without your help. I’m not gonna beat around the bush about that- I could get myself out just fine, but I’d have to leave Leo if you refuse to help. And you know I wouldn’t do that.”

He looked at Donnie expectantly, and it took a moment for Donnie to catch on Mikey was waiting for him to agree. Donnie nodded, and Mikey continued.

“Right, and on that topic- I also know that _you_ know that you don’t want to stay here. I get that this is a scary thing to try, but I also get the sense you hate being here and at home more than you hate the idea of us trying this risky shit.” Mikey leaned forwards, arms coming up on the table to mimic Donnie’s posture- except, Donnie felt Mikey was actually achieving the unwavering stance correctly. “C’mon, Dee. You said it yourself. You hate your grandfather. Why d’you want to go back to that, when you could come with us?”

Prepared excuses rose up in Donnie’s throat. _I like my routine, thanks. I was exaggerating. I can make my own life choices, and you’re all fucking insane. I just want to go back to my room, okay?_

He didn’t actually say any of them.

“I don’t have to justify myself to you,” He said instead, digging his nail in so hard it hurt in an effort to get the bold statement into the air. His chest felt tight anyways, constricting around the sentence as it came out.

“No, you don’t,” Mikey replied evenly. He was never this… _mature._ It was unsettling. “But… let me justify this to you, okay? I don’t have to know what your relationship with your grandfather is like, or what your home life was like, or anything like that. None of us have to know unless you want to tell us, alright?”

“Rachel won’t take us unless I disclose,” Donnie pointed out. “She won’t take any of us unless we _all_ disclose.”

“I’ll talk with her about that, don’t worry. Just… think about it, Donnie,” Mikey gave Donnie an urging look, intent eyes locked on him alone. “You’re smart, smarter than anyone probably in the whole country. Maybe the world. If this works, and if we all pull together I _know_ it will- we’ll be free. Free to do whatever the hell we want. Don’t you want to try that? See the world, find bigger stuff than this hellhole? Be with _us?”_

Mikey splayed his hands, offering up everything of himself without hesitance. “I know you’re a little intimidated by everything, but please trust me on this. If we get out of here, it’ll be better than anything else. Nothing about this place is helping us- it’s just _holding us back._ It’s holding you back! You could do so much, and they’re keeping you stuck here without so much as a _tablet._ Give us a shot, Donnie. However you need this to run once we’re out of here- I’ll make sure it gets done like that. And, if you really, really don’t like it in the end, you won’t be obligated to stay. We’ll get you back to your- grandfather’s, right away. No questions asked, no phone number left behind unless you want it.

“Please, Donnie. This is a no strings attached deal that’ll get you out of here, and you have my word that I’ll do everything to make sure nothing will go wrong.”

Donnie calculated Mikey’s sincerity of each word, examining every inch of the other patient’s expression for a hint of deceit. He found none he could detect. It didn’t set him at ease. But…

He had always sort of wondered what it be like, to experience wanderlust. He’d always been content in his routine, curled up in his room- but he’d wondered what the sea felt like to touch, to experience. Even if the vastness and depth and general danger of it deterred him from fantasizing too much.

And…

He’d be lying if he said that the idea of leaving his home was tempting, even just the slightest bit. Away from his grandfather’s watching, controlling gaze. Relieved of the duty to carry on the family business. Free of being the legacy of a tragedy.

But he’d be leaving his room, his routine. Practically backhanding his grandfather and all the years he’d put into raising Donnie, even though Donnie so strongly resembled the man who killed his daughter.

Donnie’s grandfather would never forgive him. The punishment for running away would be. Severe.

“…how can you guarantee it doesn’t fall apart?” Donnie asked quietly, clenching his hands together as the thoughts of his grandfather’s anger passed through his mind. “How can you promise this won’t go down in flames and leave me stranded halfway across the country- probably arrested, or possibly dead?”

“Well… maybe I can’t promise the other two will stay,” Mikey admitted, frowning ever so slightly. “But I _can_ promise that I will.”

Donnie watched Mikey carefully. “Really?”

Mikey jerked a nod, bouncing his long curls. “Really. If there’s one thing I can promise, it’s that. A freak hurricane could try to blow us all away and I’d still stick like glue to you. Pretty much nothing short of death would make me leave you!” Mikey smiled, seemed to catch himself on something, and then amended, “Unless you wanted me to, of course. I’d respect that.”

Donnie heard a hint of reluctance to say the last thing, and found himself feeling a flicker of gratitude. Mikey had persisted for so long to establish a connection between them all, and yet if Donnie chose to make it happen once they all left, Mikey would back off. He’d listen if Donnie said _no more,_ and that was… a bit touching.

“And my grandfather?” Donnie asked, pushing aside the emotions in himself. “You would…” _keep him away, keep me away from him, stand between me and him if this goes wrong- “…_ really help his only grandson run away? What sort of effect do you think that could have on someone’s family, running away without even a note? Are you really willing to do that to someone?”

Mikey tilted his head slightly, eye narrowed.

“I don’t really give a shit about how he’d feel; I only care about how you do. If it’s what you wanted, then sure. I’d do it. No issue at all.”

And Donnie knew Mikey meant that, every word. He could tell from the set of Mikey’s shoulders, and the unwavering gaze he had.

Donnie wondered if this could really work. Even if (when?) the others all fell away eventually, leaving as they got tired of the struggles to maintain their social circle- maybe Mikey would really stay.

“He’ll be furious,” Donnie said.

“I’ve dealt with worse,” Mikey replied. “He doesn’t scare me.”

Donnie knew for a fact how many contacts his grandfather had, how many favors he could call to bring Donnie home, if he felt like it.

Donnie’s nail dug sharply into his palm, his fingers griping each other with stranglehold tightness.

“He should.”

Mikey sneered, briefly, and then smothered the expression. “I’m not afraid of him, Dee. I’ve seen a lot of scary people, and I’ve gotten good at dealin’ with them no problem. If he wants to try and get you back, and you don’t want to go back, then he’ll have to go through _me.”_

Donnie had to look away, unable to maintain the intense eye contact at hearing the reverberating promise in that word. So much emotion poured into a single sentence- so much sincerity and truth in an oath- he couldn’t get his head around it. Past lives or not, the amount that Mikey was willing to put on the line just didn’t make sense to Donnie. Who put _everything_ on the line like that? _Why_ would someone ever?

Donnie wanted to understand, wondered if he possibly ever could.

His intuition said he wouldn’t understand if he passed up this chance. If he said no, likelihood was that he wouldn’t ever come close to understanding Mikey or his motivations. Donnie would sink back into his routine whenever he was taken home, and all these questions would fade away once his bedroom door shut.

Donnie looked at his hands, the floor, a passing patient, and then finally, back at Mikey.

A hundred freckles and an absolute gaze looked back at him, and Donnie found no waver of intent or hidden deceit in that gaze.

He hadn’t yet, really, in all the weeks he’d known Mikey. Maybe…

Maybe he could trust this.

“…okay,” Donnie said, internally shuddering at the admission of _wanting_ this. To run away and to be- to be _free_. “I’ll. I’ll give it a shot. But you have to promise the second I want out, I get it. No exceptions.” He refused to trade one entrapment for another.

How Mikey could handle so much emotion in his expression mystified Donnie. The way he smiled at Donnie showing every drop of his gratitude.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Mikey said, somewhat haltingly as he smiled. He sounded overwhelmed. Donnie wasn’t sure how to address that, and let it slide by without acknowledgement.

Donnie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, dropping his eyes again. He selected a topic that would move the focus away from him specifically. “So. Now what? I know what part I’d play in this, so what’s your grand plan?”

Mikey stared at him for another second, and then seemed to shake something off with a casual shrug. “Eh, the usual stuff,” Mikey gave him a conspiratorial grin that Donnie didn’t understand the meaning of. “I’ll handle the grunt work, you just sit tight ‘til I got things all lined up. I’ll give you the rundown when I get everyone else on board.”

Donnie nodded, picking at a flake of dry skin on his wrist. His paper bracelets sometimes rubbed him wrong, leaving the area irritated. Mikey’s plan sounded reasonable enough, except-

“How sure are you that Leo will be on board? He… he already told me he shouldn’t come with us. Quite distinctly at that,” Donnie recalled the interaction, albeit with the usual fuzziness that came with panic tinged memories. He tended to blur the edges of his worse moments. But he did remember that Leo had sounded genuine about his statement of staying behind, resolute if… saddened.

Donnie felt a prickle of shame for being unable to even acknowledge Leo’s struggle. He’d been too wrapped up in being a dysfunctional piece of shit over something he should’ve been able to handle.

“Leave Leo to me,” Mikey said, leaning back in his chair and giving an air of easy confidence. “He just needs a push in the right direction.”

Donnie wondered if committing multiple felonies could really be construed as the ‘right direction’, but who was he to talk?

Donnie snorted under his breath. “Good luck with that.”

He didn’t have to be looking at Mikey directly to know the other patient was beaming at him.

“Thanks, but I doubt I’ll need it.”

Donnie was pleasantly surprised that Mikey then disappeared, leaving the table with hardly a farewell. Donnie noted the jittery excitement in the other teen’s steps as he walked off, and tried to not let similar jitters infect his own mood.

This was going to be life changing, one way or another. If it failed, Donnie didn’t want to imagine how badly it would go for him especially. Alternatively, if it succeeded…

That was a whole other dilemma. In theory Donnie knew where he would stand in the group, but in practice? How and when was he going to be able to tell missteps before they happened, or marker and avoid every possible negative reaction he might garner for making a misstep? The prospect of freedom was alluring in all its vertigo inducing glory, but the _fallout_ Donnie might reckon with. That was terrifying.

Three people were two more than he was used to dealing with, and just a single had always been strenuous. With the addition of erratic and potentially dangerous each individual’s negative mood swings could be, Donnie felt like he was toeing the creaky steps of an unreliable bridge spanning a canyon.

He didn’t want to look down into that metaphorical canyon. That way lay panic attacks.

So he would look forwards instead.

Donnie felt oddly calm, now that there was a tentative agreement in place. A little detached, despite how badly he’d reacted at even the mere thought of this, yesterday. It was definitely preferable to a spiraling anxiety attack though, so he decided to hold onto the detached sense of calmness for as long as he was able.

He returned to his book, for lack of better things to do. Investing himself in someone else’s struggles was so much easier than continuing to deal with his own.

Though he did allow the wondering thought of just _how_ Mikey was going to convince Leo. Leo was the only one of them who wholeheartedly embraced his treatment, who _wanted_ to be in the facility. How exactly would Mikey convince Leo otherwise of that, when Leo hadn’t expressed anything other than positive views of their situation?

Well, it wasn’t Donnie’s problem currently. So he didn’t entertain the query for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw, since i do this all for free and my part time job + school limits how much energy i have to pour into this kind of thing, [a Ko-fi or two would be really appreciated.](https://ko-fi.com/A3022DE7)
> 
> thanks for being patient with waiting on this update, i'll try to have the next one done soon as my energy recovers.


	19. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh ho, here we are again. let's see what's in store here.

Leo walked sullenly back to his room, not looking anyone in the eye as he passed by. He didn’t feel like going and sitting with Donnie or Mikey today. He just wanted to be alone, to wallow in self-pity without interruption.

His doctor had asked why he was so quiet today, when he’d been steadily coming out of his shell the past weeks. Leo had looked at his hands in his lap and mumbled he just wasn’t feeling good today.

In truth, he was trying to swallow the bitter pill of his near future. And the sooner he did, the easier it would be to let the others go.

Maybe when he was better Leo could get back into contact with them, somehow. Maybe then it would be safe for him to join them all and… hopefully be close, whether by friendship or familial bond. It didn’t matter to Leo, (- _yes it did-)_ he would be happy with whatever he could get.

But that was a hope for the future, possibly even years down the road. Entertaining it _now_ would just hurt him. Leo pushed the thought far backwards into his mind for that reason, if only out of self-preservation.

As he turned the corner, into the isolation hallway where his room was, Leo was too far into thought to notice someone in his way. He ran into the chest of someone, started to stutter out apologies, and jolted in surprise as his hands were grabbed by the person.

“ _Hey,_ hey, chill,” Mikey said, holding tightly to Leo’s hands. “’s just me, dude. Did I scare you?” Mikey didn’t wait for Leo to answer, instead tugging him backwards and into the open doorway of Leo’s room. “Sorry about that, just got a little too far into my head and forgot you don’t have ninja skills anymore.”

“M-Mikey, hey what-” Leo was dragged into his own solitary bedroom, and only released so Mikey could shut the door. Leo instantly felt uncomfortable. “Mikey, wait. You know the open door policy- no two or more people alone in a room together without supervision!”

Mikey scoffed, walking away from the door and sitting down on Leo’s small bed. “We’re in the middle of planning a breakout, I kinda feel like some rule bending is allowed here.”

Leo winced. He didn’t want to do it, but he couldn’t keep leading Mikey on like this. He had to come clean with his very reasonable plan to stay behind and let them go on without him. Staying quiet about even for one night had eaten at him enough as it was.

“Mikey… about that…” Leo sighed. He walked the short distance to the bed and sat down, a safe distance from Mikey against the headboard. Mikey’s only reaction was to draw his feet up under himself, crossing them as he watched Leo expectantly as they sat parallel.

“I’m.” Leo took a deep breath, wringing his hands. “I’m not going. With you. I’m sorry.”

Mikey barely even blinked.

“I know.”

Leo stared at him, a little shocked how well Mikey was taking the news. Leo thought Mikey would at least be giving him a disappointed look.

He swallowed dryly; Mikey didn’t _seem_ disappointed, but then again, Leo felt he might not know Mikey well enough to see the signs.

“You do?” He asked, voice croaky. Mikey shrugged, and slumped on himself.

“Yeah. Dee told me you weren’t on board,” Mikey, for once, was the one who broke eye contact; looking at the bed instead. “And like, I _know_ I need to respect your choices, but… Leo. Please? Think about this,” Mikey cast a glance up, through his fringe of wild curls. “We’ve been lookin’ for each other our whole lives- you really wanna break us up again so soon?”

Leo looked away, guiltier by the second. “I… I have to stay here,” He said quietly, wanting those words to not be true. “If I leave, and something happens, and someone gets hurt- or- or one of _you_ get hurt, I’ll.” Horrible scenes flashed through his head, making his stomach twist.

“I’ll never forgive myself,” He whispered. “I need treatment, Mikey. It’s better this way. You guys don’t need me anyway.” They didn’t. Leo didn’t have any special skills to offer or even memories of who they’d been. They wouldn’t need him, really, and they’d all be fine without him.

“…of course we need you.”

Leo closed his eyes, refusing to look at Mikey. “No. No you don’t.”

“But we _do,”_ Mikey insisted. The bed creaked and dipped, and Leo opened his eyes to see the pair of knees in front of his. He let Mikey’s hands take his, and refused to let them shake.

“Leo, c’mon,” Mikey squeezed tightly, and that was when Leo noticed _Mikey’s_ hands were shaking. He finally looked up, and saw a naked amount of emotion in Mikey’s expression.

“We _need you,_ okay?” Mikey repeated, eyes bright and intense. “We need you just as much as you need us, I can _guarantee that._ Nothing bad will happen if you come with us- I promise it won’t. And everything good _will happen_ if you do!”

Leo bit his lip and shook his head. No. No that wasn’t right. “You’re wrong, Mikey-”

“ _The hell I am!”_ Mikey exclaimed, refusing to let go of Leo as he tried to pull away. He just gripped all the tighter. “You just don’t get it, do you? We’re a fuckin’ mess without all of us together, and we’re not all together without _you._ We _need you,_ we all do.” Mikey’s voice wavered. “ _I_ need you, okay?”

Leo felt Mikey’s hands shake around his, and on autopilot, switched their grips so he was holding Mikey’s fingers. Mikey looked so _young,_ vulnerably staring at Leo with pleading hope.

It shook Leo to his core. No one had ever looked at him like that before.

“Please,” Mikey said, eyes boring into Leo’s and shimmering as he blinked away emotion. “ _Please._ At least give us a shot. I’d make it work, I swear.”

Leo stared at Mikey, feeling unbalanced and drawn in. “…what if they get scared?” Leo asked, his own voice wavering. He couldn’t take it, saying yes and _trying_ and then _losing all of them_ afterwards. “What if. What if I snap and- and hurt one of you, and they leave? I-”

“I won’t let you!” Mikey swore, and that was _worse,_ because what if Leo got Mikey _instead?_ “I’d stop you, and. And even if they did want to leave,” Mikey gave Leo a smile that hurt to look at; honest and sincere. “I’d stay. I would never, _ever_ leave you behind.”

“…really?” Leo asked in a whisper. Mikey nodded firmly.

“Really,” Mikey said, not a hint of meaning otherwise. “So… would you? Please? I… it would mean the world to me if you came with us, Leo. We’re not a family without our leader in blue to keep us grounded.”

Leo didn’t remember being that, though. He didn’t remember anything.

But he _wanted to._

He wanted to get to know Mikey, and Donnie, and Rachel. He wanted to live a normal life, and he wanted to have important people in it. He was terrified that if he tried he would just wreck it all by his own hand, but…

If he went, would the old memories return? Would he get to remember what it was like to really be a part of a family? He’d… never had one. It had only ever been him, since his parents gave him up.

Leo wanted to remember being a brother, a son. Having friends and being with people who cared about him. He wanted that so badly it hurt, and the only thing that hurt worse was the thought of shutting the door on that chance.

Leo looked at the gentle way he was holding Mikey’s hands, and thought of how he’d never even started to blank out while he was around the other boy. Maybe… maybe Mikey’s influence could help. Maybe Leo wouldn’t wreck this so long as he tried his best and never, ever let his control slip, even for a second.

And if, somewhere along the way, he remembered who he’d been… would he finally have control of himself? Would that fix him?

Maybe he could trust himself with this. With them.

He looked up at Mikey, who looked back at him, and in that moment, Leo felt a throb of genuine and sharp emotion for the boy in front of him.

Mikey had said Leo had been his older brother, once. Someone he trusted to protect him. Leo couldn’t imagine being quite that, but… being a sibling would be a good enough start.

“…okay,” He whispered, hope as shaky as his voice building in his chest. “I’ll come with you.”

Abruptly, he was pulled forwards and into a tight hug. Leo’s cheek was tickled as Mikey pushed his face into Leo’s shoulder, holding closer than almost anyone had ever dared to.

 _“Thank you,”_ Mikey said, sniffling as he curled around Leo. _“I promise you won’t regret it.”_

Leo felt a swell of emotions in his chest, painful and hot, and he put his face in Mikey’s cloud of hair, hugging back and nodding mutely.

Leo wanted this to work. He would _make it work._

If only because he wanted to be there for Mikey. For all of them, if they would let him be.

 

 

 

Mikey rubbed his eyes as he slid out of Leo’s room, and walked quickly away from the isolation corridors. He sniffled a little, and then breathed in and out slowly. Easing out of the emotions he’d been pulling to the surface of his outward expressions.

Mikey ignored the twinges of guilt he felt, about somewhat manipulating his brothers like he had. It wasn’t that he _wanted to,_ but given the circumstances, he did have to. If fudging a few details and making a couple promises is what he had to do to keep them all together, he’d keep doing it.

Leo liked it when he had someone depending on him, so Mikey would show he needed Leo to be that someone still. Even this Leo, who denied wanting responsibility of any sort, rose to that need when asked to. And this Donnie, while not very like the independent and relatively confident mutant he’d been, did have enough similar qualities left that Mikey had known which promises to make. Plus, the past few months of observation had given him plenty to work with.

Mikey knew he didn’t measure up in a lot of ways, but he did know how to watch people. He knew how to spot tells, and he knew how to memorize triggers. It’d saved his shell- skin, now days- many times in the past.

It felt icky, playing on specific needs and fears his brothers had, but it was all with good intentions! If they ever figured it out, it would probably be after their memories had come back fully, and by then they’d understand why Mikey had done what he had.

Sometimes, you just had to do what needed doing. Even when it felt gross.

Mikey sighed, rolled his shoulders, and smiled to himself. He needed to be positive! This was a good thing! Donnie had agreed and Leo had too, which meant just one more to go.

Rachel was already more than halfway convinced. A little bit of guilt here, and little bit of sympathy there, and she’d probably let the disclosure thing drop completely.

 _Easy peasy makes ya queasy._ Eugh.

Mikey didn’t like doing this, but he had to. So he kept smiling.

He kept smiling even as he bumped into a security guard and nurse, which was just _such_ a mess of limbs and flailing, and god he was _so sorry,_ Mikey hadn’t even _seen_ them coming around the corner. So sorry, really, and he promised it wouldn’t happen again. Honest mistake he wouldn’t make a second time.

Mikey smiled and smiled and bid them a cheery goodbye, continuing down the hallway and whistling as he went. He flicked the two scan passes around in his fingers, and slid them out of sight into his pockets beside his pen.

These people even had his records of petty theft, and yet still let down their guards like that? Honestly, it was like they weren’t even trying to keep him out of trouble.

Oh well, all the better for him, and that made Mikey grin toothily at everyone he passed by. Not a single one of them suspected a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yep, this is definitely my favorite mikey to write.
> 
> thank you all for being patient with this update, i've been focusing a lot on my halloween special fanfic (titled "The Strange Happenings of Lakefield"), which i'd love if y'all went and checked out.
> 
> what comes next you may ask, and well. probably more sneaky antics, possibly some angst, and possibly!! the beginnings of a breakout!!! oh my!
> 
> and fyi, because i do this all for free, [a Ko-fi or two would be really appreciated! <3](https://ko-fi.com/A3022DE7) thank you!


	20. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BUCKLE UP FOLKS, IT'S A WHOPPER OF A MEGA UPDATE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sponsored by the incredible 1readerVB, the second to last update of this fanfic!!! without a doubt, this individual commissioning me is what gave me the boost/motivation to finally get this thing on the go. money is a powerful motivator, especially when it comes from such a wonderful and sincere fan. <3333
> 
> and yes, that's where i've been lately. [find me on tumblr here if you want to know more about me and my writing.](https://onthespectrumwriting.tumblr.com/)
> 
> this is my first posting of 2018, and honestly i couldn't have thought of a better fic to update than my fave/most complicated story. happy new year to everyone here, especially the patient folks who waited so long for this.
> 
> power theme of this chapter is José González's [Step Out,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c7-4IZyNUtA) bc of reasons you'll understand later.

Rachel lingered outside the facility, holding a cigarette to his lips and trying to wrestle down the discomfort in his chest. It was already five past three. He needed to get his head together before he went in. And actually _go_ _in._ Which he hadn’t managed yet.

He wasn’t even entirely sure which part of the situation was bothering him most. That this was all entirely illegal, that he had no grounds to trust these kids on, or that he felt an annoying and near instinctive trust for them _already._

Maybe it was also that if they did go through with this, eventually they’d catch a glimpse under his sleeves. Rachel was good at covering up, but he’d make a mistake eventually. It’d only be a matter of time.

And that wasn’t even touching on the gender thing. The thought alone put a subtle tremor in his fingers as he took the cigarette away from his mouth, blowing out purposefully slow.

( _“Freak.”_ )

Actually. Fuck that. Fear was for people who had something to lose, and Rachel had pretty much nothing left.

Rachel stubbed out his cigarette and tossed it in the trash, shoving his hands into his jacket and finally heading inside. He was late as it was, and with how high-strung the people he was meeting were, he didn’t want to prolong the tardiness much longer. Even with anxiety about the whole thing, and the other feelings bothering him.

_“-You don’t need to hear it to trust us, to trust him. We’re family.”_

_“I’ve known you all for under two months. We ain’t shit.”_

Okay, so maybe it was mostly guilt that’d made him stall outside. Guilt that kept bothering him under all his suspicions and anxiety. Guilt for refusing to just trust them at face value and be done with it, and for saying something that harsh.

Fucking past-life bleed overs. All these unfamiliar and yet scarily familiar feelings leaking all over the place, screwing with his head. Not even a full evening workout had been enough to shake it. Rachel was sick of _feelings_ trying to influence how he dealt with this all; all that had done in the past was get him into shit situations that left him fucked over and left behind and pretty plainly _abandoned-_

Which he wasn’t thinking about. Nope.

Rachel waited patiently for his call in. The nurses milling around barely had to check the list before they waved him through. They’d all done this show and dance enough times in the past weeks it was nearly routine.

And wasn’t that going to look suspicious as hell, if they actually succeeded in breaking out these three nutjobs.

Not like Rachel had any big plans for himself. Only one, really, and that one was vague at best and would only get a single article in the local newspaper, likely speaking. Not that anyone would give a shit. Only old people read the obituaries anymore.

Mikey was sitting at their usual table, on this own this time. That almost gave Rachel pause, since he’d been expecting the full crew. From how things had looked, he’d assumed none of them went anywhere without the other. Or at least had the decency to pull themselves together when they were meeting up to discuss dangerous life changing escape plans.

What was Mikey up to? Rachel already could feel that there was an angle to this. Fantastic.

Mikey didn’t look towards Rachel as he approached, but Rachel would venture a guess the kid knew the second he’d entered the building. Rachel didn’t quite know why he thought that, but something in the back of his head knew it with a firm certainty.

Again, fucking past-life bleed overs. Never stopped being weird.

Rachel pulled out a seat for himself, sitting down and slouching pointedly. He wasn’t scared of this, and wasn’t backing down either. He just wanted insurance. Real reason to trust these people, instead of just a _feeling_ that wouldn’t leave him alone.

Rachel waited for Mikey to start the conversation, but was treated to silence instead. The boy staring off at the thin crowd of patients and visitors around them, saying nothing.

Rachel got tired of waiting. _“Well?”_ He asked, admittedly sharp. “You gonna tell me why you didn’t bring your friends with you today, or what?”

“Brothers,” Mikey corrected in a mumble, eyes still elsewhere. “Friends, yeah, but we’re all brothers first. And sister, I guess.”

 _Sister._ Rachel ignored how that sat wrong in him, especially right after _‘-we’re all brothers.’_

No, no thinking on that stuff. Thinking about things he probably couldn’t have was counterproductive when he was trying to get something else entirely.

“Brothers, then. Where are they?” Rachel tried again. Mikey shruged.

“It’s just me today,” Mikey replied, and finally slid his eyes over to Rachel. They were oddly unreadable, and that… Rachel wasn’t sure how to feel about.

“How come?” He asked.

Mikey shrugged again. “Figured this’d be easier with just us two,” He said, putting his hands on the table and lacing his fingers together. Rachel tilted his head, watching Mikey as he seemed to put his next words together.

“Alright, so honestly? I’ve been trying to figure out how to say something that’ll convince you right off to give up on the full disclosure thing, but you know what, Rach? You’re a tough nut to crack. You’re twice as stubborn as anyone out there, and there’s probably not a single person that’s got the ability to convince you of anything you don’t wanna be convinced of.” Mikey gave Rachel a wry grin. “Am I right, or am I right?”

Flattery? Easily spotted, too. That wasn’t going to get Mikey anywhere, but… he wasn’t wrong about that, either.

“You’re right.” Rachel allowed. Mikey chuckled.

“Yeah, I know. So I thought I’d go at this a different way.” He splayed his hands on the table, offering a only slightly suspicious, if encouraging, smile. “Rachel, instead of me trying to convince you, how about I ask you _why_ you need convincing? Why the full disclosure? You didn’t say you needed that when you first agreed, and usually you know what you want right from the start. Why the change of heart?”

The way Mikey talked like he _knew_ Rachel that well- it still irked him. Unsettled him. Rachel never hid his stubborn streak, sure, or that he went at situations with his goals already in mind, but _seriously._ They’d known each other for less weeks than he had fingers. Mikey knowing personal details about him still wasn’t something he enjoyed.

And besides. Was this kid stupid? Rachel’s reasons were pretty obvious to anyone with sense.

“Because,” Rachel said, keeping a defensive growl out of his voice. “wanting to make sure I don’t end up dead in a ditch is a pretty reasonable concern. If I’m getting in a car, driving god knows how far, for god knows how long, I want to know what kind of baggage you’re bringing along. And if that baggage will result in _me_ getting bit in the ass for helping you all.”

Rachel tried to steady his heartrate, calm the rise of anger in him. Getting too defensive would just make him lose his head, probably blurt something stupid, and ruin the conversation. He held his tongue while he waited for Mikey to respond.

“…fair,” Mikey said eventually, partially surprising Rachel. Mikey nodded vaguely, bringing his hands back together and tapping his fingertips on the table. “I kinda get it. Sometimes I forget you’re not all used to this kind of thing anymore, honestly. Just going with the flow and asking questions later.” He sighed. “But I don’t think I can give what you’re looking for, sorry.”

Rachel narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”

“Because Leo already told you his bit- which freaked him out a bunch, thanks- my baggage has been on the table all along, and Donnie literally hasn’t told any of us why he’s here, or where he came from, or, hell, not even his full name.” Mikey gave a somewhat apologetic grimace. “You got two of our stories already, but I doubt Donnie’ll give up his before we get out of here. Maybe not even after. And how would that make you feel better, anyway? How come you can’t just trust us?”

Rachel’s nails dug into his palms. A shaky, awful kind of anger bubbled up in his throat. The kind that burned.

“You wanna know why I can’t just trust you guys?” He grit out, watching Mikey’s still unreadable eyes. “Because people like me? If we go missing, that’s it. We’re fucking gone. Did you know I have two cousins who went missing, before I was even ten?” Rachel tried to swallow around the tightness in his throat. He hated how much this worked him up. He barely ever thought of it, but in the middle of floating happily in the weird sense of rightness and belonging he’d had when he agreed to this, he’d remembered.

This kind of thing only worked out in movies. In real life, it got you killed.

“I didn’t even know them,” He said bitterly. “I wasn’t even blood related to them. Still fucked up my family. One was twenty-five, other was a fifteen year old _girl._ You know what happened to them? They trusted their ‘friends’ to watch out for them, have their backs- and they disappeared. Gone. That’s it. Went out for a fun night and never came back. Police barely fucking _looked_ for them. And literally no one gave a shit except for their families.

“So you know what, I think I got good god damn reasons to want _insurance_ that doesn’t happen to me,” Rachel finished, spitting the words. His chest felt tight and awful, and the way he was shaking with anger and buried fears made him flush embarrassingly. He hated talking about this shit. It hit too close.

Mikey was just sitting there, still. Watching him. Listening. Rachel swallowed dryly.

“No one looks, alright?” He said in a quieter voice, coming down from his defensive rant. “First Nation’s kids slip through the cracks all the time and no one looks. If I get in that car with you and you guys decide to try something, no one’ll… no one will come looking.” He didn’t want to die like that. He knew no one was going to give a shit one way or another, but he _did not want to die like that._

He would literally rather slit his own wrists than end up one more naked body on the side of the highway. He’d had practice, even. Ha.

“…I’d come looking.”

Rachel blinked, confusion replacing the embarrassment and discomfort. “Excuse me?”

“I’d come looking,” Mikey said again, firmer. “If you went off somewhere and didn’t come back, I’d come looking. Did it this time around, didn’t I? I wouldn’t leave you out there.”

Rachel stared at him, balking. “That’s- no, that’s not how this scenario goes,” Rachel said, exasperated. “In the hypothetical worst case scenario, _you guys_ are the ones who took me somewhere. You’re not the ones… looking.” Mikey’s firm expression hadn’t budged. Why did that have to make Rachel’s suspicions so much harder to maintain.

The way the words _I’d come looking_ resonated so strongly didn’t help, either.

Rachel sighed. Past-life bleed overs. Honestly. Would he ever get a break?

He rubbed his face, wrung out from the multiple sharp turns the conversation had taken within just a handful of minutes. “Look… I’m not going to apologize for having legit concerns, okay?”

“Now that you explained it like that, I don’t expect you to,” Mikey said, and Rachel was actually. A little surprised, honestly. The teen wasn’t being dismissive of the subject, or downplaying the severity. Not like other people Rachel had risked bringing up the topic with before.

“I was looking at it from… our old perspectives, honestly. Default settings, you know?” Mikey tapped the side of his head, grimacing. “We didn’t have these kinds of problems last time around. I mean, we sort of did, but not really. Almost anyone would’ve shot us straight up, no questions asked. We could only ever really trust each other and a few others, and that trust always had to be explicit, or someone might wind up getting hurt, and I guess… I expected you to still feel the same way.” Mikey sighed.  “I’m sorry. I guess I forgot again how different things are now.”

That wasn’t the reaction Rachel had been expecting. At all.

“…s’okay,” He said, struggling to find another response. Mikey nodded vaguely, and then said,

“But you know, we’re kinda all in the same boat. Or at least close to it.”

Rachel’s lips tugged in a frown. If he heard one more speech about how his- and every other individual who was distinctly a woman- problems were on level with some dude issue, he wasn’t sure he could hold himself back from snapping.

“How so?” He asked carefully.

“Well, there’s Leo,” Mikey said. “He’s pretty darn dark, right? And I’m not exactly pale, either. The skin, the hair- first person people always look at in the room tends to be the blackest kid. Leo doesn’t talk much about it, but I kinda get the vibe that some people might’ve been more sympathetic to his condition if he were white.

“And Donnie’s not quite on that level of visible, but hey, still not as easy as some people. He’s pretty obviously mixed, too,” Mikey gestured at himself. “Which is a thing I get, since I am, too. Hard to find a nice niche for yourself in either group like that, especially when you’ve been raised at a distance from one or both. Not that it really bothers me, since I don’t really feel human a lot of the time.”

He chuckled after the last bit. Like it was normal to not feel like a human when you were, coincidentally, a human.

“Maybe that bothers Donnie, maybe it doesn’t. I don’t know. He doesn’t talk much about himself. Anyway,” Mikey’s eyes fixed on Rachel; not hostile, but not easy going, either. “you’ve got a little more to worry about than us, that I get, but we’re not exactly safe out there in the wide world, either.”

With anyone else, Rachel probably would’ve felt like he was being chastised, maybe even attacked. But with Mikey?

It felt more like a branch extended, an offering. Saying _I get it_ and _you’re not alone in this._

Something very dangerously like kinship.

Rachel would’ve liked to have been able to shake off that offering, but like so many other things Mikey had offered of himself and their shared past, it locked in place and took hold.

“Not that I’ll ever let someone get at us,” Mikey added, smiling with teeth. “I spent way too long finding you all again to let something like that happen.”

Rachel raised one eyebrow, lips almost quirking. “You’ll singlehandedly stop racism, just for us?”

“I’ll give it my best shot, that’s for sure,” Mikey beamed. “We’ve done more impossible shit than people being decent to each other.”

“Are you sure about that? Because I think the history of humanity can beg to differ.”

Mikey shrugged, still smiling. Rachel rolled his eyes, but not dismissively. More so begrudgingly amused.

Shame it couldn’t last.

“Okay, so you’re going to save us all from a shitty society,” Rachel drawled, feeling the moment of humor already slip away from him. “that doesn’t change the fact that I want insurance, still.”

Mikey’s smile dropped on the edges, becoming flat.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. We all got shit to worry about, but you said it yourself. Me more than you. Sorry, but bonding over being on the short end of the stick doesn’t make me feel all that safer.”

Mikey’s eyes narrowed, just a little.

“Again, fair,” He said slowly. “but you know? You’re right about another thing. We don’t know much about each other at all- us three about you, especially.”

Rachel stiffened. His chest tightened with discomfort.

“And?” He asked.

“If you expect us to give you our life stories, then dude, you gotta return the favor,” Mikey said, humor hidden away and unsmiling. “Are you really willing to tell us every single detail about yourself? Any and every detail that could derail the plan in any way? Or ones that are so personal you’ve never talked with anyone else about them?”

Rachel clenched his jaw. The rows and rows of scars on his skin felt painfully visible- the way he had something in his chest that grew spikes whenever he got low, cutting up his insides- it all felt obvious to anyone who might glance at him. It felt obvious how he sometimes felt like his throat was filled with black poison and that that’s all there was to him. Useless hateful poison.

He didn’t answer, mutely furious with Mikey and his own shortcomings.

“That’s what I thought,” Mikey said, and that pissed Rachel off more than the accusations did. Mikey tilted his head, eyeing Rachel. “It’s easier to make it out like its someone else’s fault there’s a problem, instead of admitting you’re scared of something.”

Rachel slammed his palms on the table, standing up so fast the chair he’d been sitting on screeched against the floor. The whole room went silent at his outburst, but Rachel was too angry to give a shit.

 _“You.”_ He hissed, at a loss for words.

Mikey only looked up at him calmly, not even flinching at the sudden show of aggression. His eyes perfectly blue and utterly unreadable. He didn’t move an inch, even as Rachel loomed across the table at him. Simply sitting still and waiting for Rachel’s next move.

The security officers in the corners of the room were starting to drift towards them, and Rachel could feel the dozen stares on him from all around. He sat down slowly, shoving down his angry embarrassment.

The tension bled out of the room, conversations picking back up slowly and the guards easing back into their stationed positions. Rachel resisted the urge to cover his face, cheeks flaming.

Worst part was that Mikey was just so _unbothered_. Rachel couldn’t even tell if the teen had _blinked_ through all that.

“You… don’t know shit about what I’m scared of,” Rachel said, low and biting.

For a moment, it looked like he was going to be met without response, but then Mikey blinked once, seemed to take a breath in, and then nodded slowly.

“Because you haven’t told us,” He said, like that hadn’t been thoroughly established. “and that’s alright by me,” He continued. “just so long as you leave off Donnie and Leo. I’ll tell you anything you wanna know about me, but they’re… sensitive. Asking personal questions makes them really upset. It seems fair enough. You keep your personal secrets, and they keep theirs, and you guys can know whatever you want about me. _And,_ if a problem happens because of the secrets, I’ll step in.”

“You’re one kid,” Rachel said disbelievingly before he could stop himself. “the hell are you going to do?”

“Play peacemaker I guess? Or try,” Mikey grimaced. “Not my strong suit, I know. But I want this to _work,_ okay? It’s not gonna be easy, but I _,_ ” The unreadable look to his eyes gave way for a moment, exposing a sliver of vulnerability. “I need this to work. And I think you all need it to work, too.”

Did Rachel? Did he really need three mentally unstable teens dragging him into a life on the run, based purely on what could still probably be shared psychosis?

Something like a ghost of a memory flitted through his mind in that moment, more a sensation than a scene. It was enough, though, to leave the lingering sound of laughter, and brief warmth that made an odd lump in his throat.

He thought about his house, which was occupied almost purely by him now, and of how pointless his life seemed to have ended up. Empty, lonely, worthless.

But these three. These three.

Maybe they’d be worth the risk of his secrets being exposed.

Dammnit it all.

Maybe he did need this to work, too.

Rachel rubbed his face tiredly, breathing in slowly and finding his courage. These three had a metric ton of issues, that much was clear to see. But for whatever reason- apparent past lives notwithstanding- they were still trying to get along and figure it all out. You couldn’t have found a group more at odds with themselves if you tried, and yet they’d all somehow accepted each other as they were, limitations and secrets included.

Rachel admitted to himself that he wanted in on that, too. And maybe. Maybe they’d accept parts of him he hadn’t dared to talk about in a long time.

But what if they didn’t? What if it happened again?

( _“Freak.”_ )

“I just. I just don’t want to get hurt,” Rachel said quietly.

“I can’t give a perfect guarantee that won’t happen, but I promise you I’ll do everything I possibly can to prevent it,” Mikey replied, zero hesitation in his voice. “And none of us want to hurt you, Rach,” He said gently. “We got all sorts of messy shit in our lives, but none of that includes wanting to hurt you. We’re family. We wouldn’t do that.”

A part of Rachel wanted to fire back the exact same reply he’d given the first time Mikey had tried that card.

He didn’t, though. Because a much larger part of him wanted to believe that statement.

At one point, Rachel had been the sort to charge ahead without any thought at all. Running on bullheaded bravery alone and willing to see the risk through without flinching. There was still enough of that personality left in him to take a deep breath, ignore all the reasons why he shouldn’t, and say,

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

 

 

  
Things were different, sure, but plenty was still the same.

Like the fact that Raph- no matter what life he/she was living- would always get angry the moment someone tried to point out his/her fears. Nice to see for certain that part of Mikey’s sibling was still intact, since it’d make things even easier to navigate in the future.

Easiest way to get Raph- now Rachel- to do anything: make it seem like her own idea. Mikey had seen Leo pull the same trick a hundred times before, and their father, too. Mikey hadn’t gotten away with it nearly as often, but he’d found his own way of convincing Rachel of things back then.

It was sort of like playing matador, waving a red flag and getting out of the way before he got trampled by the angry bull. Wind Rachel up, let her run, and hope she went the direction he wanted. With as little injury to his soft bits in the process.

Honestly, that whole experience had gone a lot better than Mikey had thought it would. He’d been almost positive at that one point Rachel would snap and actually punch him.

Guess not! That’d been pretty lucky for him. It would have been worth it, but black eyes and a bruised jaw really were such a hassle.

Things were definitely looking up. Icky feeling manipulation- check, unfortunately. Security cards- check, happily! Routines and shifts and locations of stationed after dark staff all memorized- check, definitely! Final meeting between everyone- check, check, check! Which had gone pretty smoothly, considering the people attending it. Directly after Mikey had had Rachel’s agreement, he’d called around Donnie and Leo.

It’d been natch after that, since he’d had the plan in his head for weeks. Nearly hours after meeting Rachel properly, he’d finally put together a plan that would (hopefully) get them all out of the facility without getting caught.

Plans _definitely_ weren’t his forte, but hey, desperate times called for desperate measures, right? Leo was in no shape for that sort of thing, and neither was Donnie or Rachel. The only one who had any experience with this sort of thing anymore was Mikey, and wasn’t that a scary thought?

Ha ha. So much riding on his shoulders sure felt heavy sometimes. Whenever his siblings got their proper memories back, it’d probably be a relief for everyone involved that he could go back to being the team goofball.

Until then, he had an escape plan to execute, and a bunch of difficult individuals to keep in order.

Good thing he’d watched so many movies involving prison escapes, in this life and his last one! It’d probably all work out fine if they all played their parts right.

Hopefully, at least.

 

 

 

Nerves made it very, very easy for Donnie to throw up.

He wiped the spittle from his mouth, panting as he swallowed back true bile. His stomach clenched emptily. He hadn’t been able to get more than a few bites of dinner down, and with the little white pills now lying on the floor, he really didn’t have anything left inside him.

Good. He needed to be sharp for this to work.

Donnie reached for his glasses, picking them up off the bed and placing them on his face again. He grimaced as he next picked up the pills, disgusted by his own bodily fluids covering them. Donnie hid them quickly inside the folds of the sheet covering his bed, and then climbed onto it with shaky movements. His heart pounded uncomfortably as he lay back, trying to slow his flood of adrenaline.

He had a few hours before things actually went into motion. He couldn’t burn up all his energy right now. If he didn’t want to dissolve into a tangle of panic later on, he needed to get a hold of himself right now. There wouldn’t be any more anti-anxiety meds in his system by that time; it would solely be on him to keep his head together.

Donnie failed miserably to not feel like he was dying of anxiety. If Mikey was to be believed, and that dream Donnie had had- how on earth had his other self managed the life he’d led? From what little he knew of that life, Donnie couldn’t understand how he’d done it.

Maybe his other self had actually been a functional person. Unfair, since Donnie here and now actually had a shot at living a real life, and wasn’t trapped in the shadows of society. He should’ve been the one to get a working brain and have real bravery.

Donnie felt the darkness of his room starting to suffocate him. He felt the heavy fear that someone was going to come back, look in on him and somehow _know_ he’d thrown up his medication.

Calm breaths. Calm. Breaths.

Mikey had laid out the plan. Donnie could pull off his part easily. He just needed to focus on the steps leading up to that point, and think about the ones following after it’d been accomplished.

He just needed to wait and keep calm. That’s all. He could do that.

Donnie closed his eyes, lying on top of his bed’s comforter, and chose something to take his mind off the impending breakout attempt. Something to latch onto and give himself a break from reality. What was a topic he could sink himself into?

( _Don’t think about grandfather, don’t think about grandfather, don’t think about grandfather-_ )

His computers. His online profiles. New clothes without tags that made him scratch the same spot over and over. Yeah. Donnie could think about the steps he’d take once he had those things, about the comfort it would bring to have them in his hands and on his body.

He could auction off most of his gaming avatars, delete the accounts right after… liquefy any other assets and pool them into a new account… get a nice soft hoodie and pants that didn’t hitch above his ankles… maybe find somewhere to curl up a few hours and listen to music until he could breathe deeply again…

Donnie drifted into a half-nap without intending to. The door to his room opening woke him immediately though, jumpstarting his awareness back to 100% and making him bolt upright.

Mikey stood in the doorway, grinning cheekily in the gloom of the dim hallway lights.

“You comin’?” He whispered, still smiling with all his teeth.

Donnie’s heart was already pounding again with adrenaline, but he managed a shaky nod. He stood up, stepped away from the bed, and forced himself to take one stride after another out the door.

 

 

 

Donnie’s room had been in a ward adjacent to Mikey’s, but Leo’s was at least four turns of hallway away. Donnie gulped quietly to himself as he follow Mikey’s silent steps- a little surprised that for someone who talked so much, Mikey could slip into utter silence within a blink.

They’d timed this with the shift change; the nurses on duty were in the breakroom, swapping out with the overnight employees, and the patrolling security guards were on the opposite of the building with their rounds. They about fifteen minutes before the security looped back, and five before the staff swapped out.

No pressure.

Donnie felt enormous pressure. Mikey seemed to be experiencing none at all. Absolutely unfair.

None of their doors were locked at night (especially not from the inside, which Donnie still _hated,_ ) so they didn’t have to worry about actually getting into Leo’s room in the isolation ward. The only things they really had to worry about that moment were the security cameras, which Donnie cast a fearful glance towards.

They were betting on the security room being vacant right now, leaving the camera feeds unwatched. If someone was watching, it would only be minutes before they got caught.

Donnie’s breath kept trying to catch, hitching unevenly as Mikey marched towards Leo’s door without a word. He was as far outside his comfort zone as possible without panic taking him, but just barely before that.

He reminded himself it would (hopefully) be better, once they got out. He just prayed he could keep himself together long enough to be of use to get to that better.

Leo’s door opened without issue, and Donnie waited anxiously for their third member to emerge at Mikey’s beckoning. What instead happened was Mikey cursing quietly, and darting into the room. Eyes wide and definitely unwilling to remain alone in the hall, Donnie caught the door and slipped inside after the other boy.

Mikey, in the gloom of the dark, was already at Leo’s bedside, shaking him and whispering fervently, _“Leo! Leo, wake up! Leo!!”_

Leo mumbled muzzily, barely coherent. Even as Mikey pulled him upright, Donnie could see a sway to Leo that wasn’t just sleepiness. Donnie put his hand over his mouth, stifling a throb of increased anxiety. He already knew what had happened, and it could screw them over.

“Sorry,” Leo said with a soft slur. “couldn’t- get ‘em up. Sorry.”

“Shit, shit, okay, that’s okay,” Mikey wrapped an arm under Leo’s arms, throwing the other boy’s across his shoulders. “Hold onto me, I’ll help you stand. Three, two, _one._ ”

Donnie held the door for them as Mikey hauled Leo along, keeping clear of all the limbs involved. Leo’s steps gained some better traction and steadiness as they hurried, but his remained half shut from the sedatives flooded through his system.

Donnie kept the vitriol of angry cursing inside himself. This was an incredibly stupid and careless thing to have done. Leo had _one job,_ and that had been to get his body free of the medication that kept him dazed all the time. If they got caught, Donnie would probably risk the backlash of shouting at Leo for how idiotic he’d been.

 _Couldn’t get them up._ Honestly, this wasn’t the time to develop gag reflex troubles!

Donnie was panicking. He was panicking badly. Somehow, he kept his feet moving and his eyes scouring the unsettlingly empty halls of the facility.

 _“This way,”_ Mikey whispered in a rush, dodging left and dragging Leo’s stumbling steps with him. Donnie cast multiple glances behind them as they went, trying to watch the previous halls as well as the ones in front of them. They followed the plan and took the halls least likely to be used at this late hour; far from the breakroom and already passed through by security.

Maybe it was a good thing they’d been here so many months, since even though it was disserted and lit only by sparse lighting, they found their way around with little issue. The doctor’s offices came into view within a scant few minutes after retrieving Leo, though it felt like forever to the cloud of fear drenching Donnie’s thoughts.

They needed to get their paper files. Physical evidence they’d been here, and documented information that would neutralize anything Donnie did later. Which was why they’d taken this risk of making two stops instead of just one.

“Hold him,” Mikey instructed with hardly any warning, and all but tossed Leo on Donnie. He stifled a yelp, both he and Leo trying to righten themselves with as little actual contact possible.

“Sorry!” Leo whispered, listing towards the wall and away from Donnie.

“<It’s your own fault, not throwing up those pills!>” Donnie hissed, comforted that the slip of anger wouldn’t be understood.

“Sorry, sorry!” was all Leo replied with, leaning on the wall and putting a hand on his head. Donnie nearly felt bad for him, trying to function with such powerful sleeping pills in his body, but that sympathy was tempered by the situation they were in.

“You two, jeez,” Mikey muttered, apparently done picking the lock with an assortment of stiff wire he’d gotten from somewhere. It’d taken only seconds. Donnie was somehow very unsurprised by Mikey’s talent for breaking and entering.

Mikey tapped a nurse’s security card he’d produced from his pockets against the sensor, buzzing them in and disarming the alarm. He pushed open the door, holding it and waving them both inside. Donnie quickly followed instruction, eager to be out of sight. He went straight for the desk light, flicking it on and rounding on the wall of filing cabinets of the main office.

This was something he could do. It had a clear order and was a task that had a definitive beginning and end.

He just had to ignore how very deep the pit of trouble he’d be in if they were caught, and it seemed simple.

Donnie tackled the task before Mikey and Leo had even finished entering the room; yanking open metal drawers and scanning file names. He had to start at the top, working downwards, as he realized none of them had bothered with last names for their introductions. Stupid. An oversight. No time to fix it now, this was faster than struggling with verbal communication.

He found Mikey’s first, then Leo’s, and lastly his own. He shut the drawers with as little noise but as much speed as possible, rounding on the other two patients with the brown file folders in his clenched grip.

They both stared at him with raised eyebrows. Donnie found he was out of breath suddenly, formerly steady hands starting to shake again.

“Um. Here.” He shoved them at Mikey.

“That was. Wow, really fast?” Mikey remarked, taking the files. “Good job, Dee.”

Donnie pushed his glasses up his nose, avoiding eye contact. “It’s a basic organization system. It was nothing.”

Mikey hummed, mouth in a smirk. “Sure it was,” He said, making his way around the desk. He took a pair of large scissors out of the pen cup, opening them with a soft _snkt._

He chopped off the parts of the files with their names written on them, then emptying the papers onto the desk and tossing the folders to the side without care. The paper shredder whirred to life under the desk, and quickly as possible Mikey shredded all physical evidence that they’d been patients in the facility.

Donnie found himself idle while Mikey finished the job of disposing the papers; folding his fingers and anxiously squeezing his palms together. He and Leo stood to the side while Mikey emptied the shredder, taking fistfuls of paper over to the window and prying it open.

It only took a moment to remove the screen covering it, and then Mikey tossed the paper out the small second story window; the shreds catching on the breeze and falling apart from each other. With any luck, this would prevent anyone from putting the shreds back together and getting their information again.

Mikey replaced the screen, shut the window, and turned around with a beaming smile.

“That was easy,” He said brightly. Donnie managed an agreeable mumble, allowing a small bubble of victory in himself despite how far from the endpoint they still were.

Donnie glanced towards Leo, who hadn’t responded. The other patient was leaning heavily on a cabinet, head on his arm and eyes shut.

“Aw, Leo,” Mikey sighed. “C’mon, up you get.”

 

 

 

Now came the part that relied entirely on Donnie.

Irrational anxiety surged in him for the umpteenth time as they darted through the hallways. What if he’d somehow lost his touch in these past months? What if he couldn’t locate all the files with just keywords and it slowed them all down? What if he slowed them down to the point of getting caught? What if someone _was_ in the security office and had been biding their time the whole while, waiting to spring a trap on all of them? What if Rachel wasn’t waiting for them? What if she’d told on them all? What if this was all just a delirious nightmare in Donnie’s mind masquerading as a hopeful dream?

Maybe Donnie could just lie down on the linoleum and spontaneously expire so this would be over already.

Donnie was so lost in the spiral of terrifying thoughts that he’d stopped watching where he stepped. He nearly bowled over Mikey and Leo, only prevented from doing so by Mikey’s reflexes; a hand impacting Donnie’s chest and pushing him firmly against the wall. Donnie tried not to wheeze, from both shock and sharp discomfort at being touched without warning.

 _“Shhh!”_ Mikey hissed, holding Donnie and Leo both to the wall. He peered back around the corner they’d been about to round. “Someone’s here.”

Donnie slapped his hands over his mouth, silencing his own whine of terror.

 _“We’re so dead,”_ He breathed, so quiet he hardly heard himself. Mikey shushed him with a hiss.

Donnie’s eyes darted to the floor, seeing a shadow move across the hall’s light. His heart thudded loudly in his ears, blood rushing fearfully as footsteps sounded.

Oh god, oh god. His grandfather would hear about this for certain if they got caught. Donnie would never hear the end of it once the files they’d destroyed were discovered missing- his grandfather would know _exactly_ what he’d been trying to do, and would- he’d-

Donnie shut his eyes.

He didn’t want to go back to that.

He waited for something to happen- for discovery, for the inevitable disaster- but all that happened was the removal of the weight holding him still. Donnie took a shallow breath and opened his eyes.

Mikey was still peering around the corner, still as stone and eyes unblinkingly focused on whoever was around the corner. But he didn’t seem like he was panicking, just tense.

Donnie glanced at Leo, but received no acknowledgement. Leo’s eyes were aimed downwards, a glassy sheen to his gaze. He was holding himself up mostly by putting his whole back against the wall.

Mikey let out a sigh, and leaned back from the corner; running a hand through his mass of hair. “’kay, so that was someone who probably forgot something in her office,” He whispered. He gave a weak smile. “But she’s gone now, so we’re all good. She went the total opposite direction. Let’s keep going.”

Easy for him to say. Mikey wasn’t the one experiencing a drawn out panic attack.

Mikey started to tug Leo along, resuming pace. Donnie hesitated for a moment, then shaking himself and pushing onwards. There was a point where you just couldn’t go back anymore, not without worse loss than venturing forwards would bring.

Mikey kept glancing over his shoulder at Donnie, multitasking being point of their group and helping Leo keep up, as well as making sure Donnie was still with them. Donnie just tried to keep his feet moving in a straight line.

And even if he failed to do that, he had a feeling someone would reach back and pull him on track again if he faltered.

Donnie held onto the fact that while he was absolutely scared shitless of what he was doing, at least he wasn’t alone, and (probably) wouldn’t be left behind.

The security office’s door arrived faster than he would have expected. The dim hallways blended together so seamlessly, only broken by the trip down to the main level, that Donnie suspected he might have lost time in the process. Distancing himself from the stress of it all. Since nothing had gone wrong, he supposed that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Mikey produced the wire from his pocket again, as well as the security guard pass. He clenched the plastic card in his teeth while he fiddled with the locked door, sticking multiple lengths of wire into the keyhole. Donnie felt sweat prickling on his neck, twisting his head left and right in an attempt to watch both ends of the hall.

“They’re- they’re still on the other side of the building, right?” Leo asked, stringing together the first sentence he had all night. He actually seemed steadier, too; remaining upright without support and only minor swaying.

“Should be,” Mikey mumbled around the card in his mouth. “or else we’re ‘bout to get a _nasty_ surprise.”

“Please don’t make light of this,” Donnie said hoarsely. Every inch of his nerves felt frayed and on fire, he couldn’t take gallows humor besides his own.

“Chill,” Mikey replied. “this is the lowest level shit possible compared to what we’ve done before.” The door’s lock clicked, and he let out a worrying giggle. “See? Piece of cake.”

He spat out the plastic keycard, tapping it against the sensor with exaggerated flourish and a smug cat’s grin. Though he’d opened all the doors as promised, Donnie refused to acknowledge it, simply hurrying inside and past their dubious leader.

In the office, the moment he flicked on the light switch, Donnie sucked in a sharp breath.

Two rows of television screens were bolted to the wall, above a desk with three different monitors. There were keyboards for each screen, and glowing CPU’s underneath the desk. There were empty coffee mugs and crumb covered dishes all over it, wadded paper balls and used napkins as well.

Donnie moved towards the first mouse he laid eyes on, dead center of the whole setup.

At his touch, the center screen came back to life.

He found himself slowly smiling, wider and wider.

“Donnie? You good?”

Donnie barely heard Mikey, sweeping his foot out and dragging a swivel chair to himself. He sat down, tugging all three keyboards to himself.

Donnie stretched his arms above his head, popping air from his joints caused by slouching constantly. His lungs inflated fully and his head cleared of anything but the stunning blue light of the three computer screens before him.

Donnie laid his fingers on the center keyboard, locking eyes with the already open account carelessly left unattended by one of the security guards.

With that, the world faded away, and there was only his goal.

Find and destroy all remaining evidence.

 

 

 

 _“And just how are you going to pull that off, exactly?”_ Rachel had asked Donnie; back when Mikey had explained the tallest patient’s part in things.

Donnie had adjusted his glasses, for once making eye contact as he spoke.

_“Trust me. It’s what I’m good at. I’ll get it done.”_

_“Sounds too spy-movie, but fine. Do your job, I’ll do mine.”_

Leo blinked his eyes rapidly, wondering if his sleeping pills were making him see things. But no, he was fairly sure Donnie’s fingers really were moving that fast; on three different keyboards at that.

“Whoa,” He mumbled. “You weren’t kidding.”

Donnie didn’t seem to hear him, staring intently at all three computer screens and the pages opening and closing faster than Leo’s drugged brain could keep track of. He couldn’t even tell what Donnie was doing, other than the general goal was to wipe the entire system of any digital files about them, and then all the surveillance footage of their stay as well.

Leo rubbed his face, feeling the world sway under his feet. His chest and arms felt heavy, and his legs seemed to be made of fuzzy lead. Everything felt far away, or like it was underwater, and he was having trouble opening his eyes again after every blink.

But hey, at least he wasn’t lashing out at anyone. As guilty as he felt about lying and not throwing up his meds, Leo would prefer this risk over startling and blanking out.

It was cowardly, and a huge burden on Mikey and Donnie, but… the fear of turning on one of them was stronger than of being caught. Leo would rather they stay in the facility than have to wake up with their blood on his hands.

…they really should have left him behind.

“Leo? Dude, Leo!”

Fingers snapped in front of his face, and Leo realized he’d nearly dozed off standing upright. Mikey’s hands landed on his shoulders, steering him towards the rows and rows of plastic bins to the right of the security desk.

“C’mon, we gotta get at least _some_ of our shit before we bust out of here,” Mikey said, releasing Leo and walking backwards towards the shelves of seized possessions. “You gotta have one thing or another you want back, right?”

Leo glanced towards Donnie, and at the video monitors. The camera feed showed no one anyone close to their location, and Donnie was lost in his own world with the loud clacking of keys.

“I got… a few things, I guess,” Leo said, following after Mikey.

The security office wasn’t just for monitoring the grounds of the facility, but also where all of the patient’s possessions were stored. The room itself was actually quite large, stretching out with shelves stacked with plastic boxes. Mikey disappeared into the E-F section, leaving Leo to drift towards the J-K and L-M sections.

Time slipped past him, bleary and unfelt. Next thing he really comprehended was staring at a row of boxes, willing the letters on their labels to arrange themselves into words. It didn’t seem to be working.

Leo sighed, listing forwards and putting his forehead against the cool plastic. He asked himself if he actually needed any of his old things. Those being the literal clothes on his back when they brought him in.

He counted to three (probably?) and opened his eyes to glare at the label in front of him. Leo thought it probably said something like Jookstoon, Johnston? Something.

Leo gave up. It wasn’t worth the brainpower to search for a box with his own name on it. He hadn’t really liked that shirt anyway.

“Oh fucking _yes,_ baby! God I missed these guys. They better not have scratched ‘em or nothing…”

Leo abandoned his fruitless search, backtracking to the aisle Mikey had gone into. He found the other boy cradling a worn backpack, rummaging through it with a big grin.

“Shit yeah, it’s all here,” Mikey said, producing a collection of- CDs? Who even had CDs anymore.

Then Mikey pulled out a Walkman, and things made more sense. And also less.

“You have a _Walkman?”_ Leo asked incredulously.

“Not enough cash to get an iPod,” Mikey explained, shoving his retro possessions back into the bag. “’sides, I think they’re cooler in their own way.”

Leo found no reason to argue with that. He didn’t have an iPod either, or a Walkman. Mikey had one up on him for that.

“Fair ‘nough,” Leo said, to which Mikey cackled.

They both startled though, as a resounding _“HA!”_ came from the computer desk. Leo and Mikey moved out of the shelves to look towards Donnie, who had thrown his hands up in the air and spun himself away from the desk.

“Gentlemen!” Donnie said, with more enthusiasm than Leo had ever heard him use. “Watch in awe as half a year of data deletes itself, and a subpar security grid goes dark. Observe.”

He flicked his hand out, snapping his fingers, and all the screens of video feed obligingly went dark. Followed quickly was the sound of all three computers chiming loudly, and a mass of files open on screen disappearing.

“And that is how it’s done,” Donnie said smugly, glasses reflecting the bluescreens of the computers as they shut down.

Mikey started clapping. Leo dazedly did the same.

“Awesome! And you’re positive no one will be able to get ‘em back?” Mikey asked.

“I will be extremely surprised if they can,” Donnie said, standing in a fluid motion. Leo noted how utterly relaxed he was acting, standing with loose shoulders and a smile on his lips. Starkly different from the hyper-anxious, constantly tense individual he’d gotten to know.

Mikey grinned. “Cool, cool. So you got anything you wanna grab before we bolt?”

Donnie actually smiled with teeth.

“Hell _yes,”_ He breathed, and strode towards them. Leo stumbled out of the way; surprised by the beeline Donnie was making for the furthest section back.

“He’s… different,” Leo commented quietly to Mikey, watching Donnie’s lean form disappear into the very last shelves.

“He always gets like this when there’s tech involved,” Mikey explained, shrugging his backpack onto his shoulders. “Which there totally is, ‘cause nothing else would make him that happy. You got all your stuff?”

Leo’s cheeks felt hot. “Um. I couldn’t find my… my box.”

“What? How come?”

Leo sighed. “Words are hard when you’re mostly asleep. I actually can’t feel my fingers right now, either.”

“Oh. _Oh._ Well then.”

Mikey clapped Leo on the back, pushing him forwards. “Guess I’ll help you find it. We need to get rid of the labels, too, anyway.”

It only took Mikey a moment to locate Leo’s box once he gave the other boy his last name. Mikey ripped off the label and scrunched it into a ball, adding it to his collection of pocket items.

“You want anything out of it?” Mikey asked, nodding at the box. “I got everything I really need right here.” He patted the strap of his backpack.

Leo shrugged. He didn’t really have much in there to begin with. “Maybe my shoes?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah shoes are good. Better than these shitty things anyhoo.” Mikey kicked off his own indoor slip-ons. “I’mma get mine, too. Good plan, Leo.”

He patted Leo’s shoulder as he breezed back out of the aisle. Leo pulled down his box as Mikey left, opening the lid and pulling out his worn black sneakers and white socks. Putting them on felt pretty good, actually. He hadn’t had this kind of foot support in months. He still felt very dizzy and definitely swayed every second step he took, but with his sneakers on he felt a little more solid. More steady over all.

A shriek of anger ruined that steadiness, and Leo had to catch himself on the shelf to prevent a fall.

He hurried out of his aisle, nearly running into Mikey as the other teen ran towards the sound, and they both witnessed Donnie storm out of the very last aisle; tossing a pair of clothes in the air and kicking a bin across the ground.

“ _Dude,”_ Mikey admonished.

“I wait _months!_ MONTHS! And they- those _fuckers-!”_ Donnie raked his fingers through his hair, kicking the box again. _“Qínshòu bùrú!_ They knew _exactly_ how much I needed those! MotherFUCKERS, I’ll break their fingers _myself!”_

He kicked the bin a third time, cursing in English and, judging from the way it was spat, Chinese as well.

“What??” Leo asked, very lost about why Donnie was attacking a plastic container.

 _“My computers!”_ Donnie nearly wailed. “They took all of my fucking computers! _Son of a fucking-”_

“Later!” Mikey interjected loudly. Donnie covered his face and moaned equally as loud. Mikey ignored the dramatics. “We’ll get you replacements later, but we gotta finish escaping first. Which means you gotta be _quieter,_ okay, Donnie? I’m sorry they took your stuff, that’s super shitty. But we don’t have time for this.”

 _“Qù nǐde,”_ Donnie moaned.

“Donnie. Come on. Let’s get the label off your bin and leave this stupid place.”

Leo shifted uneasily, a little unsettled by the sudden outburst from Donnie. He rarely spoke aggressively, and never to this level. Or talked about breaking people’s _fingers._

It seemed like for a moment Donnie might carry on with his ranting, but instead his shoulders slumped and he sighed heavily.

“Cāo,” He mumbled, and then straightened up and gave Leo and Mikey an exhausted stare. “Fine. Let’s just go already.”

 

 

 

With the surveillance system disabled and the staff on the other end of the building, they were home free. Leo’s heart still beat rapidly in his chest as they exited through the emergency exit- which Donnie had _also_ disabled the alarm of, because Leo’s neurotic, hyper-anxious companion was a hacker genius, _apparently._

Mikey had all the ninja skills from their past lives. Donnie was a computer savant. Leo felt a little dizzy imaging what secret skills Rachel might possess.

It sucked he didn’t seem to have any. He was just himself, which wasn’t really a good thing.

Leo stumbled into Mikey, who’d stopped short and gone still as stone. Leo winced as Donnie nearly tripped over him, a mutter of cussing coming right after.

“ _Why-?”_ Donnie hissed.

“SH!” Mikey snapped, making Donnie’s mouth click shut. Mikey jerked his thumb towards the light of the front entrance of the facility.

Leo finally noticed there was a shadow being cast by that light, and a puff of smoke drifting on the nighttime breeze.

His throat closed up.

“I thought you said they were on the other side of the building right now,” Donnie whispered weakly, all his aggression gone and back to his usual anxious self.

“I forgot,” Mikey whispered back. “one of ‘em likes to take smoke breaks during patrols. They split up sometimes so he can do it without walking. _Fuck._ I didn’t think they’d do it tonight; I saw ‘em do it yesterday already.”

“You _saw_ them do it yesterday?” Donnie asked hoarsely. “ _How?_ ”

“Very long bathroom break,” Mikey muttered. “I used it to scout one last time after lights went out.”

Leo opened his mouth to ask the hell they were supposed to do now, with the guard standing between them and the exit to the road, but spluttered instead when Mikey withdrew from his pocket something that glinted in the light.

 _“I’ll get rid of him,”_ Mikey mumbled, and moved forwards with a fluid, silent grace.

Leo’s hand seized the back of Mikey’s shirt the same time Donnie’s did.

“ _What the fuck, Mikey,”_ Donnie said, yanking Mikey backwards into Leo. Leo wrapped his arms around Mikey on instinct. “‘I’ll get rid of him’- this isn’t _Mission Impossible,_ Jesus Christ! What were you going to do, stab him with your _fork?”_

Leo looked at Mikey’s hands, and saw the teen was indeed holding a fork.

“Why do you even _have_ a fork?” Leo asked.

“Uh, ‘cause knives don’t stay in my hair?” Mikey said, like that was obvious. “They were gonna pat down my pockets yesterday, I could tell. So I put back my knife and hid the fork in my hair.”

“ _Why?”_ Donnie said.

“Uh…” Mikey squirmed. “you probably don’t wanna know.”

Donnie said a string of expletives under his breath. “Okay! Wonderful! You’re obviously still insane, great, fantastic. Why don’t we do the sane thing and _wait_ for the guard to move back inside, or along his pre-established counter clockwise patrol pattern, okay? How’s that sound?”

“Well if we’re being boring about it,” Mikey said.

_“Bèn dàn.”_

“Please don’t stab people with forks,” Leo pleaded to Mikey’s hair, which tickled his chin as the boy wriggled around.

“Yeah, yeah. No fork stabbing, got it. By the way, while you two were yappin’, he left.”

As Mikey finished that sentence, the sound of doors opening and closing disturbed the night. Donnie let out a somewhat hysterical giggle.

“Come on, _come on come on come on,”_ He said in a rush, and with that, Donnie took off towards the wide open gates of the facility’s entrance. Mikey broke out of Leo’s weak grip, and snatched up his hand to pull him along.

The wind rushed past Leo’s ears, his feet unsteadily hitting the ground as he stumbled after Mikey’s racing steps. The doors of the facility and the interior behind them were empty of life as they ran by, and the gates to the outside world rushed up to meet them.

Leo’s feet crossed the border a beat after Mikey, both of them trailing after Donnie’s long gait.

For the first time in months, Leo took a breath of truly fresh air.

Mikey threw back his head and laughed aloud, joyful as he cried out. Donnie’s laughter was comparably hysteric still, but real. Their feet hit the pavement of the road with steady thumps, only the three of them and the woods surrounding the facility to make noise in the night.

Leo still felt heavy and confused, and definitely still scared of what the future would hold now that he’d chosen this, but he also felt, for maybe the very first time-

_Free._

The three of them ran, three escapee patients still clad in their easily spotted white shirts and pants, following the road downwards on a hill. Towards where their partner in crime was promised to be waiting with a getaway car, who they trusted to be there and who trusted _them_ to show up.

Leo’s footfalls grew steadier as they ran. He stopped listing to the side and ran straight forwards, guided by the hand clasped around his.

He let out an overwhelmed laugh, high on adrenaline and fear and joy all at once. It felt immeasurably good to have it answered by Donnie’s own laughter and Mikey’s overly loud holler of triumph.

 

 

 

Rachel tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, anxiously smoking his third cigarette in the last hour. Sat in the driver seat of his cousin’s van, his thoughts were a restless turmoil in the dark of the countryside.

_Tell them._

_Don’t tell them._

_Fuck me, I can’t do this for the rest of forever-_

_What if they don’t-_

_But it’d make more sense if we’re considering in past life terms-_

_But what if they think that’s too weird-_

_They’ll say it’s okay, they have to, they-_

_They’ll hate me-_

_They’re all diagnosed as mentally unfit for society, they can’t honestly hold this against me-_

_Prejudice doesn’t always make sense-_

Rachel tossed the butt of his cigarette out the open widow. He got out a new one, flicking his lighter and telling himself it was absolutely stupid that his fingers were shaking like that.

Fuck. He hadn’t even tried to say anything yet, and his hands were already trembling like this? No way could he get the words out at this rate, let alone in a way that was understandable or acceptable.

He took a drag of smoke. Tried to calm his nerves.

It probably said something about him, that he was more worried about saying three little words than about being arrested.

Something big hit the side of his van, and he nearly swallowed his cigarette as he shouted, _“-FUCK!”_

“ _YO!”_ the psycho in chief shouted back, face pressed to the passenger window and grinning _exactly_ like somebody grins when they’ve escaped an asylum.

Rachel took a brief moment to reflect on his life choices (and also cough up a cigarette).

Mikey banged his hands on the glass, still grinning toothily. Leo and Donnie were behind him, giving similar “ _Let us in right now”_ looks.

For lack of other options, Rachel hit the unlock button and decided to once again embrace the possibility of this all going down in flames.

Mikey yanked open the passenger door, while Leo and Donnie hauled open the middle door. All three of them climbed into the van; Mikey in the front seat, Leo in the middle ones, and Donnie acting like a contortionist and clambering into the very back. The allergy to sharing personal space continued with the latter two it seemed.

“Hell yeah, hell yeah, _hell yeah!”_ Mikey crowed, pounding his fists on the dashboard. “Beam us up, Scotty- we’re _free men! WHOO!”_

“That’s not really the phrase-” Leo started to say.

 _“DRIVE!”_ Donnie practically shouted from the far back.

Rachel started the van, hitting the gas and taking off with an unfortunate tire screech. A similar sound came from Donnie’s area of the car. It seemed he’d forgotten to put on his seatbelt in his haste to get things in motion. Oops.

For a brief few moments, there was only the irrational feeling of being chased, despite the fact they were in the country and no one even knew they were running anywhere. There was also a sense of elation- because they’d _done it._ Mikey, Leo, and Donnie were all out of the facility. Rachel was just the getaway driver, sure, but he still felt their lingering victory.

As things lulled, and they got a little further from the facility, Mikey started talking to Rachel. He listened with half an ear, mostly focused on the road in front of them, but he did catch snippets here and there. Mostly, Mikey seemed to be thinking aloud, rambling about where they’d go next with the escape once they were on the way. Something about finding the rest of their crew, something about wanting to hit a decent fastfood place sometime as soon as humanly possible, and something about all four of them finally getting to do all the shit they’d talked about wanting to do, back when they were all mutants living in the sewers and dreaming of taking their four man show on the road. Seeing the world, actually _experiencing_ things besides the same patrol night after night.

Mikey caught himself, stopping mid-sentence.

“Ah, sorry. Three men and one woman show.”

And for whatever reason, that just. Was the last straw on the camel’s back.

Rachel hit the brakes before he even thought about it, stopping them in the middle of the dark road. Muffled shrieking came from Donnie, and silence from Leo. Mikey just let out a small _“oof”_ as his seatbelt locked across his chest.

“Why did we stop driving?” Donnie asked, panicked. “We need to keep driving. Please start driving again oh my god.”

“Dude, the fuck?” Mikey asked, giving Raph a confused look visible even in the dark of the van.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Rachel blurted, chest tight. “I just. I can’t fucking do it.”

“What?”

Rachel could hardly breathe, jittery fear and wired nerves making his hands tighten on the steering wheel.

“I.”

( _“Freak.”_ )

Rachel’s throat closed up, hot fear wrapping tightly around it. Old memories surfaced and brought with them their gut wrenching humiliation and anxiety.

(“ _Jesus, Rach. If I’d known you were a faggot, I never would’ve asked you out to begin with.”_ )

“I’m.”

(“ _You fucking_ freak, _lying and playing me like that- I should’ve known right from the start you what you were!”_ )

“I-”

( _“We got all sorts of messy shit in our lives, but none of that includes wanting to hurt you. We’re family. We wouldn’t do that.”_ )

Rachel glanced at Mikey, who looked back at him with open, concerned eyes.

Rachel swallowed the bitterness of old pain.

_Fuck you; you’re not a part of my life anymore._

“I’m a boy,” Rachel finally said.

Mikey blinked owlishly.

“Come again?” He asked, tilting his head.

Rachel took a steadying breath in. “You heard me. I’m. I’m a boy, okay? I’m not your sister, I- I don’t _want_ to be your sister. I want. I want to be your. Brother.” He fought the shake in his voice, the trembling terror and _need_ surrounding his words.

“I’m trans, alright?”

Mikey’s mouth fell open.

“ _Oh,_ oh _shit-_ yo!” Mikey flapped his hands around. “Oh my god! Okay. Okay, shit, that’s great! Oh my god, yeah, much easier. You have _no idea_ how hard it’s been tryin’ to call you a lady, Christ.”

Mikey beamed at him. Rachel felt a little blindsided.

“Really?” He asked faintly.

“Uh, yeah? I spent two whole lives thinkin’ of you as my bro,” Mikey said plainly. “I’ve been trying, but it’s harder than you’d think to make a switch like that.”

“And that’s it. That’s your reaction to this.”

“…is there another thing I’m supposed to do?”

Rachel opened his mouth, and then shut it. “I. Don’t know?”

They stared at one another for a beat, equally lost about the next step. They were interrupted by an incredulous,

 _“Seriously?!”_ Donnie exclaimed from his backseat. “We’re doing this _now?”_

“Donnie!” Mikey admonished, twisting in his seat to fix a stern look on the other teen. “This is a very serious thing! I think. I mean, I think it is for- uh. Ra…chel?” He ended Rachel’s name in a question, casting a glance at him.

Rachel blinked. Mikey was asking if he was supposed to still call him that. “Uh, you can still call me Rachel. I don’t. Um. Have another name, yet.”

“Cool, cool,” Mikey said. He turned back towards Donnie. “Anyway, this is a big moment for Rach and we need to treat it with respect. I’m pretty sure that’s what you do for this.”

Donnie let out a muffled yell. Rachel glanced in the mirror, meeting the eyes of the irate teen.

“We’re in the middle of _illegally escaping a mental institution._ I don’t care if he identifies as a _wombat,”_ Donnie said desperately. “just as long as he _keeps driving!”_

 _He._ Donnie called him _he._ Just like that.

Huh.

That felt pretty incredible, for something so small.

“Hey, hey, Leo,” Mikey said, reaching back and swatting at their final group member. Rachel looked backwards, and saw that Leo was passed out, head lolling against the headrest.

“ _Whff?”_ was what Leo responded with to Mikey slapping his knees.

“The hell is wrong with him?” Rachel asked, a little concerned about the sudden collapse.

“Sleeping pills! Didn’t throw them up!” Donnie supplied quickly. “Now please, _drive, for the love of god!”_

“You hear any of that?” Mikey asked Leo. “Rach is a guy, okay? You got that, Leo? Rachel’s our bro. Like, our _bro,_ bro.”

“ _Tha’s…_ huh?”

“ _Trans,_ Leo. He’s trans.”

“Oh… ‘kay. That’s nice.”

Rachel heard Donnie make something like a distressed cat sound, covering his eyes and dramatically flopping against his seat. Mikey finally shrugged after a few more knee slaps, giving up getting Leo to be conscious enough to hold a conversation.

“We’ll tell him again later,” Mikey said. “but I’m pretty sure he’ll be all cool with it.” He reached across the small space between them, clapping Rachel on the shoulder. “Good to have you back, dude!”

Rachel’s head spun. He’d been expecting questions, repeated queries about if he was _really_ sure about that, possibly full out rejection. He’d gotten absolutely none of that.

“…good to be back,” He managed hoarsely, trying to not let his eyes tear up. Mikey frowned, and firmly patted him a couple more times on the shoulder.

“Chill, we’re good. Let’s just drive and get out of state, and we can talk a bunch more about this later, if you want.”

“Uh. Yeah, um. Sure. Okay.”

Rachel dazedly took his foot off the brakes, pressing on the gas and taking them forwards again. Distinctly rude words floated up from the far back, but they weren’t any that Rachel could identify. Leo slipped into a deep sleep again as they drove, starting to snore faintly. Mikey jittered around in his seat, looking out all the windows and fiddling with his air vents and just generally having too much energy for an enclosed space.

Rachel felt a little numb, honestly.

But more than that, so relieved he felt dizzy.

Sometime later, while Mikey was fussing with the few radio channels they got this far from town, Rachel managed to find his voice again.

“Hey… thanks,” He said, quiet despite the swell of warmth inside him. Especially around his eyes. “Thank you. Really.”

Mikey smiled, toothy and utterly accepting.

“No problem, dude.”

He pulled one of the napkins, leftover from past takeout, out from the cup holder. He passed it to Rachel without comment, and didn’t say anything as Rachel blew his nose quietly as possible.

Mikey just reached out, and finally found a station that wasn't static. The lull that followed didn’t feel awkward at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this is the song playing as they drive down the highway fyi.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g3ncYwtsQWY)
> 
> i hope everyone enjoyed it, seeing as this chapter was filled with a bunch of shit i've been working up to for AGES. if people didn't feel things about it, it's highly possible i may cry myself.
> 
> EDIT AT FOUR IN THE MORNING: i forgot to include the translations to the shit donnie threw around during his rant:  
> Qínshòu bùrú (禽兽不如) = worse than beasts  
> qù nǐde (Chinese: 去你的) = fuck off/shut the fuck up (milder)  
> cào (操) = fuck  
> bèn dàn (Chinese: 笨蛋)= Idiot (lit. stupid egg).
> 
> my source is wikipedia's section of chinese profanities, please don't quote me on anything i'm an unfortunate anglophone.
> 
> as always, thanks for stopping by, and please consider checking out my info on tumblr.


	21. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s he so scared of you for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i lied, this isn't the last chapter. the NEXT will be.
> 
> this is just because i'm horrible and live on other people's suffering. and that its more effective narratively broken up like this.

The drive into town ended up bleeding the adrenaline out of all of them. Rachel, despite having only been the driver, felt incredibly exhausted by the time they reached his neighborhood. Even Mikey had calmed down enough to just look out the window, watching the streetlights pass.

Rachel glanced in the review mirror, checking on the other two. Leo was still dead to the world, and Donnie seemed to be… staring at nothing, with a tense expression. A part of Rachel thought asking what was up with him might be the right thing to do, but Donnie hadn’t spoken out yet that something was wrong, so…

Rachel was still busy processing everything. Whatever was bothering Donnie could wait until they got things in order, and caught a brief amount of shuteye.

Rachel had tried to nap earlier without luck, and he was starting to pay for it now. They needed to get out of the state soon as possible, but driving off without resting wouldn’t do anyone good. They’d probably end up in a ditch before they even made it to the freeway.

Rachel rubbed his itchy eyes as he turned onto his home street. He would have liked to sleep, but he had a suspicion he wouldn’t be able to. The floaty sensation of relief was still in his chest, thick feeling and unbelievable. They’d _accepted_ him, right away. No extra questions, no _Are you sure_ from anyone- just calm (excluding Donnie) and straight forward acceptance.

Rachel probably needed at least a full night of staring at his ceiling to wrap his head around that. Maybe even a few days.

He didn’t think he’d felt this overwhelmed with happiness in… _years._ Even just tentatively, he felt happy. Happy that the first time he’d spoken about this is so long had gone so well, and that his revelation had been taken with no more than a gentle but firm acceptance.

Rachel hadn’t felt accepted by anybody, not even his family, since he was much younger. Probably not since his first competition meet- tape still on his throbbing hands and a burning split lip, stretched by a triumphant smile as he and the rest of the girls from his club grinned at a camera. He still had that photo hanging in the living room wall, a memory of the first competition he’d entered, as well as his first competition win.

He used to be really close with his fellow club attendees. It sucked they’d all fallen out over the years, and he hadn’t been able to summon the energy or courage to reach out to anyone. Not since the last year of his high school experience-

“This your place?” Mikey asked, leaning forwards over the dashboard. Rachel startled a bit, coming back from wandering thoughts.

“Technically my uncle’s,” he answered automatically. He put their car in park, turning off the engine. “But we all pay a share of rent.”

“You and who?” Mikey questioned, giving Rachel a suddenly concerned look. “You said we’d have the place to ourselves.”

“We do,” Rachel said firmly. He opened his door and got out before Mikey could ask further.

Getting everyone inside was a bit of a sight. Leo barely woke up enough to mumble in confusion, and Donnie’s scramble to get out of the car was a mess of limbs and anxious muttering. “Can we _please_ get inside already?” he hissed, eyeing every shadow like it hid a swat team waiting to catch them. “I don’t feel like playing the part of a _sitting duck.”_

“Leo, Leo come _on,”_ Mikey encouraged their sleepy passenger. “We’re going in now, where there’s probably a _couch_ to sleep on.”

“ _Mnnrgh_ …” Leo mumbled, and turned his head to the side and went back to sleep. Rachel sighed. He marched in to push Mikey aside and unbuckle Leo.

“I swear to god,” he muttered without heat, and hauled Leo out of the car. It wasn’t difficult; given that Leo probably still had a lot more growing to do, and Rachel worked out most nights of the week. He slung the kid’s arm over his shoulders and pulled Leo along, letting Mikey slam the door shut behind them and ignoring Donnie’s pointed looks to hurry up.

Rachel dumped Leo’s dead weight on Mikey when they hit the front step, and once he dug out his keys he let them all inside. Rachel turned on the lights of the front hall, kicking off his shoes and getting out of the way so the former patients could do the same.

“You can put him in there,” Rachel said, pointing into the living adjacent to the hallway. Mikey followed his direction, carrying Leo into the room on his back and headed for the large, worn couch inside. Donnie remained in the front hall still, tightly grimacing to himself.

Rachel raised an eyebrow at him. “What, need a formal invitation of something?”

 _“No!”_ Donnie snapped, then balked and said, _“Fuck,_ sorry. Where’s- where’s the washroom?”

Rachel ignored the first half of that response. He jerked his thumb towards the stairs. “Second floor if you want a big one, around the corner to your left if you want a small one.”

“Big,” Donnie said, and rushed past Rachel. Rachel didn’t even try to get in the way, stepping back wisely as Donnie shot up the stairs, taking three at a time.

“Third door to the right!” Rachel called after him, and got no answer as Donnie vanished. He frowned. “Asshole. Just _say_ you gotta piss, don’t act like there’s a fire or somethin’… jeez…”

“Fire?” Mikey asked, popping out of the living room and looking way too excited about that idea.

“Under Donnie’s ass, apparently,” Rachel grouched. He walked past Mikey, ignoring the kid’s bemused smile. He glanced into the living room as he passed it, checking on the figure slumped across the couch cushions and not moving. “So Leo’s out for the night, right? I got everything else we’re gonna need, for at least a few days. Best get some shuteye before we head out in a few hours.”

“Sensible enough,” Mikey agreed, following Rachel up the stair flight. “Don’t wanna end up crashing because of exhaustion and suffering horribly painful and embarrassing deaths!”

Rachel shot a look over his shoulder at the boy as Mikey laughed.

“You’re weird,” Rachel informed him tonelessly.  Mikey just laughed again.

“So which is yours?” Mikey asked, looking at all the doors of the upstairs hall.

“Furthest left,” Rachel said, looking to the opposite direction at the big washroom. Which was shut and clearly occupied, but… had no lights on inside. Of course Donnie would go and lock himself inside a dark room the second he could, like Mikey would laugh at the prospect of vehicular death. Bunch of fucking weirdos.

He looked back towards one of said weirdos, and spluttered. Mikey was already opening the door to his room and going inside.

“Hey!” Rachel snapped, rushing over to follow. “ _Ask first,_ idiot.”

“Can I come in?” Mikey replied dutifully, like he wasn’t already standing in the middle of Rachel’s room. Rachel glared at him, huffing in annoyance and embarrassment. He’d only managed to pull together focus and energy for prepping road trip stuff; not clean his very, very messy room.

Rachel tried to be casual about shoving his dirty laundry to the side, hiding unwashed undergarments with slightly hot cheeks. Mikey seemed oblivious to the mess, totally focused on the scattered papers tacked and tapped to Rachel’s walls.

“ _Yo,”_ Mikey said, shooting Rachel a huge smile. “You still do art stuff!”

Rachel blinked. That wasn’t something he would have guessed Mikey to be excited about.

“I’m not that good…” Rachel said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just a hobby.”

“Same as last time, then,” Mikey said brightly, walking over to the corkboard and lightly touching the sketch pages there. “You might even better than last time, actually,” he said, sounding proud for some reason.

Rachel never showed his artwork to anyone, getting praise for it made a weird tangle of emotions squirm in him. “Thanks,” he managed, moving to discreetly hover near Mikey. Fuck, why were even half of these up here? None of them were all that good, but some were from years back and painfully outdated compared to his current skills.

Mikey skimmed his fingers on the edges of the papers, giving each one more attention than even Rachel had. He paused on one of Rachel’s recent drawings. “Is this me?” Mikey asked, somewhat quiet.

It was the figure with chains around them, caught in the middle of swirling motion. Rachel drew that from vague inspiration, and he hadn’t been able to put more than a cheeky smile to the face of the person. But hearing Mikey say that it was _him…_ it somehow felt right.

“Maybe,” Rachel said noncommittedly. “It’s just something I drew. I think it was because of a dream.”

“Huh… sure looks like me,” Mikey said under his breath, touching the paper’s edge again gently, like it was something precious.

Rachel didn’t really have a response for that, so he just felt awkward for a moment and went back to trying to quietly make his room less of a disaster. He’d managed to shove most of the crumpled up papers on the floor under his bed by the time Mikey came out of his abrupt quiet.

“Hey, uh. You said you hadn’t picked a new name, right?” Mikey asked, not looking at Rachel. He was fidgeting, hands turning a pen around in his palms as he stared fixedly at the corkboard.

Rachel felt an old instinctive defensiveness rise up in him, a reflex at this point, but he silenced the unnecessary emotions. It was doubtful Mikey meant the question with any form of judgement.

“…not yet,” Rachel said, a little embarrassed for the admission a second time around.  From what little he’d let himself look up, people seemed to have that kind of stuff figured out before they came out. Just another reason he was a mess of a human being.

“Well, um, how… how about your old one?” Mikey said, the words coming out nervously hopeful. When Rachel didn’t answer right away, he continued with, “I’m mean- it’s really close in lettering, and kinda sounds the same, and I’ll be honest I still sometimes call you it in my head, which isn’t exactly good enough a reason I know, but old habits die hard and all that, ha ha. Um.”

Mikey stopped, seeming to force his mouth closed. He fidgeted again, shoved his pen away, and finally looked towards Rachel.

“Only if you wanted to,” Mikey added, emphasizing the words. “It’s your choice, but I’m just saying. You could. If you wanted.”

Rachel would’ve had to be deaf to not hear the desperate hope in those words.

His old name… _Raphael._ Make it a complete set again. The idea felt… weighty. Meaningful.

“I’ll think about it,” he offered, and he meant that.

It seemed to be enough for Mikey, who gave him a smile and let the subject go. He went back to picking through Rachel’s art, lifting the newest layers of paper delicately to see behind them. Rachel finished shoving clothes and papers and other miscellaneous junk around with his feet, then calling uncle and giving up on making things presentable. It looked like shit, and there wasn’t much he could do to fix that at this point. He opted to move back towards Mikey, who had remained quiet since the name suggestion.

Rachel looked over his own work. Maybe because Mikey was showing so much genuine appreciation for it, he didn’t feel the usual reflex to lessen his own skills. He wasn’t the best, but he definitely wasn’t total shit. Maybe he should give himself a little more credit for that.

“So where’re we supposed to sleep?” Mikey asked, breaking the companionable silence. His fingers remained in motion like his eyes were; skimming the sketches with calm attentiveness.

“Pick a room, I guess,” Rachel said. “My cousins aren’t around to mind. You could even take the master bedroom downstairs; I’m pretty sure my uncle changed his sheets before he left.”

“Where’d they go?” Mikey questioned. Rachel watched him pull out the tack of one collection of papers all stuck together, bringing it close to examine each one.

Rachel debated silently about telling Mikey it wasn’t any of his business, but then decided that if they really were all throwing in with each other, he could tell the truth about his home life.

“Work, girlfriends, who knows,” Rachel said flippantly. “Most of them work on oil rigs, and they’ve all got girlfriends spread out up that way. They’re really only still paying for the bills because this is nearest to our family reserve, and… I guess they might be waiting on me to finally move out, or something.”

They’d been waiting for over a year and a half, and Rachel hadn’t even managed to pick a potential school to attend for higher education. He couldn’t ever muster the energy or interest to even _look_ at sites for universities. His cousins and uncle were being too easy on him- it would have been faster to just sign him onto the first course they could get and kick him out.

“Hm,” Mikey mumbled distractedly. “’s nice of them.”

Rachel shrugged. “Sure, that’s one way of putting it.” He turned his attention onto easier to think about things, like the older sketches Mikey was reaching in the bundle. Rachel grimaced in discomfort. “Aw, don’t look at those. I drew those in high school, they’re shit.”

“I like all of them, what are you even talking about,” Mikey chuckled, flipping another paper down the stack. “I mean, I can kinda doodle, but you make some of these guys look like, _real_. Or cartoony in a way that’s still cool. Both are better than what I can do…”

Mikey stopped on the last page, the one underneath the other seven. Rachel looked closer, and felt the ghost of the fear he’d felt after _that_ nightmare.

“Drew that guy about… four years ago?” he said. He nodded to himself. “Actually, I think I still like that one. You can look at that one.”

Mikey let the other seven sketches fall out of his grip. His fingers tightened on the edges, crumpling them.

“Hey-” Rachel started to say, and raised a hand to take the paper.

Mikey jerked back from him, eyes wide. He was panting, breaths short and shallow. Rachel stared at him as he started to shake.

“I.” Mikey stuttered, voice gone hoarse. “I’m. You. _This-”_

His hands crushed the sketch, and then dropped it like it burned him. Mikey stumbled backwards, hitting the wall next to the door and looking like he was being held at gunpoint.

“Dude, the hell is wrong with you?” Rachel said. He moved towards Mikey, reaching out a second time, but Mikey backed out the doorway away from him.

“I-” he said, hands twitching at his side and his pupils blown wide with fear. He swallowed visibly. “I gotta. I have to go.”

Before Rachel could ask what the fuck _that_ was supposed to mean, Mikey bolted down the stairs.

Rachel cursed, chasing after the boy. _“Mikey!”_ he yelled, trying to follow Mikey’s breakneck pace. “Where the hell do you think you’re- _hey!_ Don’t you- _don’t be an idiot-!”_

Mikey flung open the front door just as Rachel hit the bottom of the stairs, and ran outside. Rachel’s sock covered feet slid on the floor as he tried to keep up- finally getting outside and running out onto the sidewalk. He moved fast as he could, but it was only in time to see the white of Mikey’s hospital clothes vanish in the corner of his eye and not reappear.

Rachel frantically scanned the street, dread building in him and making his throat clench. “No, no, no, _fuck,”_ he said, running the direction he thought Mikey went. “ _Hey, hey, kid!_ This isn’t funny! Mikey- _Mikey come back. What’s wrong?”_

No one answered. Distantly, a dog started barking in response to Rachel yelling into the darkness. Even with the streetlamps, Rachel couldn’t see any sign of where Mikey had gone.

He put his hands to his head, fingers sliding into the tight braid starting at his scalp and pulling. “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he said to no one, equally scared and frustrated. Not even ten minutes, and he already _lost_ the one nutcase who seemed to have any idea what he was doing. That had to be a new record, scaring a kid shitless with a single sketch and sending him fleeing into the night. What a fucking headline that would make when someone picked Mikey up, and this short lived escape all went to hell.

Rachel was panicking. He was absolutely panicking. What the _fuck_ was he supposed to do about the psycho ninja kid that had just run for the hills without any warning at all?! Mikey didn’t have a convenient phone to call, and god only knew what would happen once someone with even a lick of sense caught sight of him. Mikey was painfully obvious that he was out of place here, it would only be a matter of _time-_

Rachel covered his eyes, and gave as many furious oaths as he could.

When he uncovered his eyes, Mikey remained gone and Rachel was just cussing to himself in the middle of an empty street. He sighed long and hard.

Either he could go on a wild goose chase- and probably fail _miserably_ to locate Mikey- or he could go back home and have a smoke, get some food, and keep an eye on the other two idiots under his roof.

Rachel was too tired to go running around in the middle of the night. He went home instead. If worst came to worst, they could cut their losses and make for the border themselves. Leave Mikey to fend for himself.

…yeah, like they’d really do that. Rachel let that idea go with a wistful, resigned sigh. It wouldn’t be the captain going down with the ship all on his own; even if it was the captain who punctured the hull, the whole crew was going down with him one way or another.

Rachel walked back to his house, grumbling to himself about stupid dumbass kids, and stupider dumbasses who didn’t put on _shoes_ before running off into the night. Himself being included under the latter category.

Leo was still on the couch as Rachel slammed the door behind him- barely even twitching as he stormed past. Rachel stomped up the stairs, getting angrier with each step, and was only more ticked off to see that Donnie was _still_ locked into the bathroom. Effectively he was on his own with this shitstorm. And after he agreed to throw his life away for these assholes.

…not that it was much of a life, but it’d been _his,_ dammnit. One undisturbed by triggery morons who had no sense of _self-preservation._ He was going to miss having that, he could already tell.

Rachel went back to his room, for lack of better choices. His sketch pages lay where Mikey dropped them, as well as the crumpled one. He lingered in the doorway, trying to figure out where he fucked up with this one, before sighing and bending to pick up his art.

He picked up the one that’d freaked out Mikey, smoothing the wrecked sheet and trying to not smudge it. Rachel sat down slowly, hunching over the paper and trying to answer questions he couldn’t.

“What’s he so scared of you for?” he asked the drawing.

The piercing eyes of the monster looked back at him, still as ugly and horrible as the day he’d drawn it on the bus to school. He’d been reeling from the nightmare for the entirety of the day, and the intensity still felt fresh.

The claustrophobia of an enclosed space, no way out- the shape of a creature looming over him he hadn’t been able to make out completely - the haunting gleam of a silver, skeletal mask, fused to the gruesomely twisted flesh of the monster’s face. Everything before and after that was a blur, but the moment Rachel made eye contact in the dream remained in his memory even now.

The largest of the monster’s multiple eyes bored into him accusingly, like this was his fault or something.

For some reason, he felt a sudden sweep of anger (and bizarre _fear_ ) towards his drawing.

Rachel crushed the paper all over again and threw it under his bed. Out of sight- and by the time Mikey hopefully showed up again- out of mind, too.

 

 

 

Mikey’s bare feet ached as he ran. He felt cuts opening from rough scrapes, leaving traces of red on the concrete, but he barely registered the sensation of pain.

The lights blurred together above him. The streets around him were unfamiliar. Where was he? What was going on-?

Fear slammed into him a second time and he muffled a cry as he ran faster. He had to keep running, it was right behind him, Leo was waiting, _if he stopped now-_

- _searing pain in his sides-_

_-walls closing down on him-_

_-Leo’s voice-_

Mikey skidded to a stop, pressing himself against the side of a building and covering his ears to the metallic screech his brain was making.

“St- _stop-”_ he gasped, digging his nails in. “Go away, _go away-”_

A hulking shape loomed in front of him, metal mask glinting in the streetlight of the alley. Mikey screamed, and lashed out furiously.

His clawing fingers met only air, and he stumbled as his momentum overbalanced him. Mikey panted, whirling in circles as he tried to locate the threat. His empty hands remained in claw shapes- where were his _weapons,_ his nunchaku- his father gave those to him, they were the only thing that he could really rely on, the only things that might keep him and Leo alive-

­- _Leo’s voice, cracking as he spoke, coughing up blood and slumping-_

_-the weight of a blade in Mikey’s hands-_

_-a shadow falling over him-_

Mikey covered his ears again and howled.

 _“GO AWAY!”_ he screamed at the images. He hit his forehead against the stone wall, grinding against it and pushing back the tide of pain and despair and _loss_ welling up in him-

- _no response to their calls, everyone else left behind at the theme park-_

 _-Leatherhead, Casey, Raph, Donnie and April- gone all_ gone-

_“No, no, come on, Leo, you can’t. You- you can’t-”_

_“I’m sorry, I- I couldn’t-”_

“ _YOU KILLED THEM- YOU FUCKING_ KILLED THEM-!”

“You’re not- _you’re not real,”_ Mikey hissed between his teeth. His eyes burned, chest hot and tight. Everything hurt, his sides were pure _agony,_ his bones grinding against each other, broken and out of place, with blood spilling out across the concrete as he rapidly headed for- for-

Mikey sucked in a shuddering breath, curling around himself on the ground and keening high and wild.

“ _Not real, not real, go- go_ away,” he whispered fast and harsh. His forehead ached with ringing impacts, unreal and real both. He pressed it against the ground, feeling gravel pinch his skin. “That- _didn’t-_ ‘s not real, it’s _not real-”_

The dark tunnel around him dissipated bit by bit, stretching outwards a little more with each repetition to himself that it _wasn’t real, that didn’t happen, nothing happened, it’s not real, it’s not real…_

“Shut up, shut up, shut up. Shut _up._ Didn’t happen. It didn’t happen. Shut up. Go _‘way. Please..._ ”

He hiccupped, tears dropping on the cold concrete. Mikey curled up tighter, pressing together his chest to keep his blood inside, stop himself from bleeding out, stop the pain, stop his burning lungs, stop _everything._

Go away. Go away.

It’s not real.

It didn’t happen.

It’s not real. It’s not real.

It’s not-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahaha.


	22. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I missed you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god we're finally here, we're finally at the end of the first fic in this series. it took ages but here we are.
> 
> thank you so much to everyone who read and followed and supported this story. it means so much to me to have all of you loving this story as much as i do, and i hope you'll continue to follow me as i write the next installments. it'll be a long haul, so please, have a seat and get comfortable.
> 
> i dedicate this story to all the people who can relate to its characters, and i wish them well on their journeys through life.

Donnie opened his eyes in the dark of the bathroom and, for the first time in _months,_ felt perfectly calm.

Well, not really. Calmer than he’d been that whole time certainly, but he couldn’t be completely at peace without his computers and headphones. Oh, and the fact that they were on the clock to outrun the law enforcement of this state was putting a damper on things. Couldn’t forget that.

But even still. He had a _locked door_ between him and the rest of the world for the first time since he was dragged from his room, and the only person who could open it was him. Donnie had complete control of when the lock was opened again, and he was still hiccupping tearfully out of relief.

It felt _so good,_ being in a dark room with a locked door. No outside stimulation of people or light, and only the white noise of the ceiling fan going. His back was pressed against the cool of the tub’s side, and he’d been unable to muster will to move from his slump for an immeasurable time now.

If it were up to him, he might stay here for at least another few hours. Finish sinking into the tranquil calm of controlled sensory input and security of being _in control_ of his seclusion.

Not even his embarrassing panic attack could ruin his mood. That wasn’t even a bad one by his standards. He’d remained cognitive of his surroundings and of his future plans, and hadn’t needed more than a few minutes to come down from it. The rest of the time had been spent just breathing in and out in the gloriously dark and quiet room- _alone_ , finally.

If only it could last forever. Moving into a bathroom couldn’t be that hard. He didn’t mind sleeping in cramped positions- he never managed to sleep much anyway, so that mattered even less- and it probably wouldn’t take more than a few extension cords to power all the electronics he’d need. Five at the most.

Donnie laughed wetly to himself, fumbling for a tissue from the toilet paper roll and blowing his nose. He was so beyond stressed that he’d managed to come back around to numb and somewhat okay. He didn’t even care how germ ridden the floor he was sitting on probably was.

…nope, now he did care. Because he’d thought about it, and now he couldn’t stop listing every communicable contagion a bathroom floor might have. Which was a _long list._

Donnie stood up, wobbling over to the counter and feeling for the tap. He turned on the flow and lowered himself to the sink; taking gulps of water and avoiding making lip-to-metal contact with the tap itself.

He turned it off, leaning on the counter and pausing again. The fan of the bathroom spun on, clouding everything in a pleasant dull sound. After spending weeks and weeks of sleeping in a room with barely even his breathing to fill it, the white noise was achingly welcome.

Donnie wished again he could stay there forever- maybe even just another hour- but he’d heard a door slam a while ago. Hiding out when something had gone to inevitable shit would just implicate him for someone’s anger outlet. Donnie didn’t have the reserves to endure something like that.

He sighed, taking his glasses off the neckline of his shirt and sliding them onto his face. He moved cautiously towards the door. Time to rejoin the disaster party.

Opening the door just a fraction, Donnie peered at the upstairs hallway. There was one other door open, opposite of Donnie’s end of the house. No sounds were coming from there or from downstairs, so… Donnie ventured it might be safe?

He stepped out, picking his way gingerly towards the staircase. He stopped at the top, considering his options. Either Donnie went and checked whoever it was in the bedroom upstairs, or he went back downstairs where the door slam had come from.

He chose to investigate the bedroom; might as well check who he’d have at his back whenever he went down again.

Donnie approached the room cautiously, not wanting to accidentally intrude on someone doing anything private. Luckily though, it was just Rachel sitting on his bed and staring at a wall covered in sketch pages; rolling an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

Donnie hadn’t been terribly surprised to find out Rachel was trans. Because of the bizarre sensation of familiarity that was steadily becoming a norm, Donnie admitted a part of him recognized that gender better than Rachel’s assigned one. It fit correctly in Donnie’s mind, plain and simple.

And Rachel had a bit of a look to him, that according to a lot of popular media sites Donnie followed, usually fell into one category or another that could be labelled as ‘queer’ in some sense. If you were the sort to use that label, anyway. Some people did, others got upset about its use at all. There was too much controversy surrounding the name to really say for sure if it would be okay to use it with Rachel, if he’d be offended or-

“Donnie?” Rachel asked, making Donnie jump a little. He’d zoned out unintentionally, probably because he hadn’t slept in over eighteen hours.

“Um,” he stuttered. Rachel kept staring at him, and Donnie gestured vaguely. “I was just, uh. Wondering who was in here? Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude or… anything.”

Rachel shrugged. “Its fine, you can come in. Not like there’s anything much to hide in here. You guys, um. You already know that stuff about me.”

Donnie nodded, since that was true enough. However bad the timing was, Rachel’s coming out probably was best to have gotten out of the way at the start of their journey, rather than after a couple hundred miles down the road.

“I mean,” Rachel rolled his eyes, looking annoyed. “unless you’re _also_ going to look at something I drew and have a breakdown.”

Donnie blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, uhhh… Mikey kinda took off. Like, over twenty minutes ago.”

Donnie steepled his fingers in front of his face, inhaling through the sudden burst of anxious buzzing in his brain.

“He fucking _what?!”_ he demanded, voice nearly cracking on the end.

Rachel’s shoulders took a defensive hunch. “Hey, I didn’t _know_ he was going to flip out over my shit artwork! _He’s_ the one who ran out the front door without warning! Or fucking _shoes.”_

“Oh my god,” Donnie said, feeling  a tad faint as the possible futures began to take form in his mind. “This is a disaster, an enormous horrible disaster. We’re all going to be arrested the _minute_ someone finds him, and- did you even _look_ for him?!”

“Of course I did!” Rachel snapped, standing up. His vibrant red hair was loose from the braid it’d been in earlier, falling around his face in messy waves as he gestured sharply. “I went around the whole block before I came back-”

“Oh _one whole block,”_ Donnie said derisively. “Did you honestly think he’d stop at _one block-?”_

 _“I wasn’t going to fucking find him!”_ Rachel shouted, and Donnie flinched backwards at the volume. “The kid’s like a- he’s a _literal ninja,_ okay? I wasn’t going to find him unless he _wanted_ to be found! There wasn’t anything I could do, so _fuck off!”_

Donnie should have stayed in the bathroom.

Donnie backed away from Rachel in the doorway, intensely uncomfortable with how close he’d gotten and the anger in his posture. “Okay, okay, s-sorry,” Donnie said quickly, edging back with his hands up, placating. “I just- sorry. I’m worried about- Mikey, and, um, wh-what might happen to him, and. Sorry. I didn’t mean to. To snap.”

Donnie averted his eyes, wondering if he could go back into the locked washroom, or maybe just downstairs. Leo would be there, and asleep, and that was an infinitely better situation than this one. God, why couldn’t he just _keep his mouth shut?_ He could have avoided this, avoided making a conflict at all- and everything had been going _so well,_ he shouldn’t have ruined that. Now Mikey was MIA and Rachel was mad at him and Donnie didn’t have any way out of this situation at _all-_

His breathing felt tight in his throat, painfully constricting as anxiety prickled his spine. Donnie kept himself as quiet as possible as those feelings worsened, like someone was pulling on the strings of a tattered scarf and all the fabric was coming undone for it.

Rachel sighed harshly, rubbing his face. “Fuck, no, that was on me. God. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve yelled. I’m just… really fucking pissed off with him, not you. We cool?”

Donnie stifled a large swell of anxious tension in his stomach. “Sure, a-absolutely,” he managed, and stopped talking before he made anything worse.

He kept out of Rachel’s way as the other teen came out of his room, almost running into the wall as he avoided contact completely. If Rachel noticed how skittish Donnie was acting, he didn’t acknowledge it or call it out. Donnie just tried to control his breathing, resisting the urge to spiral at the thought that Mikey was _gone_ and he’d been the only one with any concrete direction for after they got out of state, not to mention that if _any_ of them got caught it would _end_ this escape for everyone else because once the cops had one of them that person would eventually talk one way or another and then they’d _all_ be caught one by one and Donnie would- would-

He’d go _home,_ or back to the facility, and either way his grandfather would be beyond angry, beyond _furious,_ and he’d only been that frustrated with Donnie’s failings a few times in the past and the last time it happened he’d been held up by two men and his grandfather’s boot had kept kicking his stomach and knees over and _over-_

Donnie found a wall, putting his forehead against it and breathing harshly. Everything had become too bright and painful to experience all over again, like he hadn’t had a chance to hide away and calm down at all.

“Hey, hey, Donnie. Are you…?”

“I’m. F-fine.” Donnie got out, forcing his breathing to even out and slow.

“Uh…” Rachel moved back up the stairs a few steps. “You sure don’t _sound_ fine.”

“I’m _fine,”_ Donnie insisted, not letting his legs give into the desire to fold. He just wanted to curl up and cover his eyes and ears, but he couldn’t do that, that was embarrassing and ridiculous. Functional people didn’t do that. Normal people didn’t curl up in panic like an overly sensitive idiot every time something went even a little wrong. He wasn’t going to alienate himself any worse than he probably already had, and Donnie _needed_ this to work out, dammnit.

He wasn’t going back home, not after getting this far. Not with the punishment it would warrant.

Donnie held onto that resolve and fought back the panic attack. They’d find Mikey. This was salvageable. This could still happen without everything going to pieces. They could figure this out. Somehow.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I just. Got a little overwhelmed,” he said, finally having enough air and control to do so. He turned his head towards Rachel as he stepped back from the wall, which he realized was at the top of the stairs. He’d made it over here somehow at the very start of the attack.

Rachel was frowning, corners of his mouth tight. He looked like he wanted to say something, but wasn’t letting himself. Probably something about Donnie’s display of overdramatic reaction to events; ones that weren’t even assured yet.

“…’kay,” Rachel said eventually, which obviously wasn’t everything he wanted to say. He started moving back down the stairs. “So if Mikey’s coming back, he’ll do it whenever he wants I’m guessing. We have a little longer before we were gonna head out, so I guess we just… wait? You want some new clothes or food or something, while he fucks around out there?”

Donnie perked up a little. “Clothes?” He did feel a little chilled, just wearing thin hospital pants and shirt.

“Washed a bunch of my cousins’ stuff. You gotta fit… something out of ‘em. Come on, they’re in the laundry room.”

Donnie swallowed the last of his anxiety attack and followed Rachel. The house Rachel lived in wasn’t overly large, but it had enough room for a good sized family. Rachel took Donnie through the short hallways on the ground floor, to a small room at the back of the house. Inside it was a washer and dryer, both older models and a tad beat up looking.

Rachel bundled up the piles of folded clothes on top of the dryer, carrying them back out of the room Donnie was hovering at the door of. “I guessed at everyone’s sizes, and washed the better looking stuff my cousins have,” Rachel informed Donnie as he walked by. “Dunno if it’s anything you’ll like, or even fit, god your legs are long. You can sort through them in the living room, I guess. It’ll give me a chance to hold a pair of pants up to Leo and see if he’ll fit, since I doubt he’s waking up in time to choose his own.”

“Ha, no, I don’t think he will,” Donnie agreed, managing to give a smile at the humor. He still felt shaky, but bit by bit he was managing to relax again. Which made sense; Rachel had apologized, and was giving him clothes to wear instead of ridiculing him for having a freak out over nothing.

Leo was still on the couch when they entered the room; one arm hanging off the cushions and a slack jaw as he breathed out through his mouth. Donnie wrinkled his nose at the faint noise coming from Leo’s mouth; he really did hate the repeating sound of snoring, no matter how quiet.

Rachel put the clothes down on the coffee table, stepping back and putting his hands in his hoodie’s pocket. He hovered there for a moment, looking as lost at what to talk about as Donnie was.

“You want some food?” Rachel asked after a long beat of silence. “I want some food. I’m gonna, uh. Grab a plate of leftovers. You want any?”

“Um, yes please, thanks,” Donnie replied. He did feel hungry, since dinner hadn’t managed to make it into his stomach at all.

Rachel nodded jerkily. “Okay, cool. You can change in any room with a locking door.”

He left the room with that, and Donnie stood mostly alone in it. He glanced towards the couch just in time to see Leo turn on his side, putting his face into the cushions and resuming snoring. Donnie sighed to himself and started sorting through the clothes.

Predictably, none of the pants managed to come even close to fitting. Every single pair would have hitched up Donnie’s calves if he tried to put them on, and would’ve needed a tight belt to keep them up. Donnie resigned himself to stark white pants a little longer, until he could get other options in order. For now, he selected an old long sleeve shirt that was worn soft and loose; long enough that his wrists only stuck out a little.

Given that it was only a shirt, and he was speedy, Donnie quickly took off his t-shirt and swapped it for the long sleeve. He breathed out quietly as the clean fabric settled on his body; the broken in feeling of the shirt was comfortable against his skin, and it felt good to have his arms covered. He felt exposed and vulnerable otherwise.

He started to stretch a little, easing tension between his back muscles, and noticed the telltale scratch of a tag against his neck.

Immediately, the comfort of the shirt lessened significantly, and Donnie fought the urge to just pull it off right then. The tags on the facility’s clothing had been simple enough to remove with his nails picking at the thread; this one was probably better made, since it was still hanging on after all these years.

Donnie scratched irritably at the back of his neck and the tag, which made it _worse,_ and he considered the possibility of just biting the thing off.

“What’s with you?” Rachel asked, coming into the room again with a plate of sandwiches. Donnie dropped his hand to his side quickly, flushing.

“I don’t like tags on my clothes,” he mumbled, embarrassed by the sensitivity.

“No? You need scissors?” Rachel offered as he set down the plate on the table, next to the piles Donnie had been careful to refold.

Donnie stared a little. He’d expected derision for the tag issue he had, but felt pleasantly surprised he wasn’t receiving that. “I’d like that, yeah.”

“Gimme a sec,” Rachel took one of the two sandwiches on the plate, taking a bite out of it as he went to a writing desk in the corner of the room; covered entirely by papers and junk mail. He rooted around in one of the drawers for a moment, and then produced a pair of large scissors. “Here, these work?”

“Yes, thanks,” Donnie said gratefully. He took the scissors from Rachel as he came back around the couch, setting them down on the pile as he tugged off his shirt. Getting the tag away from his skin was a physical relief. He sat down on the arm of the couch, beside where Leo’s still sneaker covered feet lay. No one had bothered to take them off it seemed.

While Donnie very carefully started snipping the threads of the tag, Rachel sat in the large loveseat to the side of the room. Donnie’s skin prickled at someone watching him while he was shirtless, acutely feeling how strung thin his body really looked.

He tried to focus on removing the tag without cutting the fabric of the shirt. He didn’t want any holes in it. That would be a whole other issue to bother him, every time he remembered they were there.

“You’re pretty skinny,” Rachel commented, ruining that attempt at focusing. “You eat enough?”

“I eat when I need to,” Donnie answered, biting back a tinge of defensiveness.

“I can see your ribs. And spine.”

“I eat plenty,” Donnie insisted. Though he loathed to, he interrupted his task of removing the tag to snatch up the sandwich he’d been offered. It had chicken inside it, as well as lettuce, mustard, and mayo. He bit into it, chewed, and then swallowed to prove his point. “See? I eat.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. Donnie ignored the look and went back to removing the tag of his shirt.

When he was done, he pulled loose the last threads and dropped the tag on the table. Pulling it back over his head felt good; covering up the thinness he had from missed meals and lack of exercise. Donnie adjusted his glasses, brushing his bangs out of the way. He might need a haircut sometime soon; they were getting to be a problem.

Rachel had pulled out his phone at some point and was engrossed with it, thumbing at the screen as he finished the crust of his sandwich. Donnie’s stomach grumbled at him now that he wasn’t so hyper focused, and he picked up his share of food again.

He didn’t have anything to occupy himself with while he ate- Donnie felt a twinge of bitter jealousy that Rachel had a phone but Donnie didn’t- so he got up to subtly snoop. There was an unused fireplace in the room with a mantle full of pictures and knickknacks, so Donnie chose to peruse them.

Nibbling on the chicken sandwich and enjoying the crunch of fresh lettuce between his teeth, Donnie examined the photos. In most there were men of varying ages- ranging from childhood to late teens. Majority of the ones with young boys had a woman with them, as well as the man Donnie was assuming was Rachel’s uncle. However, after a point the woman disappeared, and around the same time Rachel began appearing in the pictures.

Donnie found himself on the last bites of his sandwich too soon, and swallowed them sadly as he looked at Rachel’s documented past.

The earliest photo of Rachel that Donnie could ID was one of him around late adolescent years, when all his cousins had begun to hit teenagehood. Skinny with messy dark hair surrounding a plump child’s face, wearing an array of filthy t-shirts or dresses. In one, more recent from the looks of it, Rachel was making an obscene gesture at the camera with his cousins crowded around him, all of them copying him and the backdrop of a rundown blue house behind them.

They seemed happy enough. Donnie wondered why Rachel was so willing to cut ties with all of them. And why he was living with cousins and an uncle, rather than his parents.

“So, you gonna ask or not?”

Donnie startled guiltily, noting that he hadn’t been subtle enough with his snooping at all. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Rachel getting out of his chair, approaching with casual steps. Having the other teen come to stand next to him wasn’t as claustrophobia inducing as Donnie might have expected.

“…ask what?” Donnie questioned belatedly.

“About my parents,” Rachel said, looking at the photos instead of Donnie. “I know you guys have probably been wondering, so… might as well get it over with now instead of later. And you can tell the other guys instead of me repeating myself three times.”

Donnie chewed his lip, sensing it may not be appropriate to pry like that- he really did prefer to pry at online profiles rather than face to face, it was safer- but he was genuinely curious. And suppressing curiosity had never been something he was good at.

“Why do you live with your uncle?” Donnie asked.

“My parents… they died when I was a little older than six,” Rachel said, letting out a heavy sigh. “I almost got tossed into the foster system, but my uncle took me in. He was my mom’s brother.”

Donnie internally flinched sharply. That was a lot worse than he’d been imagining- family’s got broken up all the time, bad circumstances and difficulties especially plaguing minorities in America- but somehow, a part of him suspected.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Donnie offered quietly, unsure of how else to respond. Physical reassurance? No, he didn’t like touching, and he’d probably be absolute shit at it anyway.

Rachel shrugged. “It was a long time ago. I barely remember them at all.”

But _barely_ meant he still did. Donnie envied Rachel for that.

“My, uh,” he caught on the words. He’d never talked to anyone about it before, not like this. “My dad died. When I was a year old. And then my mom, too. I don’t remember anything about them.”

Rachel looked up at him, and possibly for the first time, Donnie saw the look of someone who got it.

“Shit,” Rachel said softly, sympathy in his expression. “That’s rough. I’m sorry for your loss, too.”

Donnie nodded, and for once didn’t feel like those were empty words of cordial politeness.

“Trade you death causes?” Donnie offered wryly.

Rachel cracked a slight grin. “Sure, if you feel like being a morbid fucker.”

“Of course I do. And you would be surprised how badly people shy away from causes of death, especially when described by an eight year old,” Donnie recounted fondly, remembering the absolutely horrified look on his advanced studies teacher’s face. He’d been suggested to have another round of therapy for that one.

“Oh no, I totally know. Did the same shit,” Rachel said. His smile slipped a little, but remained there as he spoke. “Car crash for my folks. I was in the back when it happened, and I got a wicked scar on my chest for it.”

Donnie’s mouth fell open, surprised. Rachel shifted awkwardly at his silence. “What, too gruesome?”

Donnie shook his head. “No- no, it’s just. My dad died in a crash, too. He was a pedestrian, though, not a driver.”

“Oh,” Rachel said, blinking. “Huh. Weird coincidence.”

“Among every other coincidence we’ve encountered, you mean,” Donnie corrected, because that list of chance meetings and decisions was really getting long. At least with this one, they had the assurance it wasn’t such a coincidence that Rachel’s family ran over his father. The timetable of him being one and Rachel being six wouldn’t match up. They were only a year apart in age, after all.

Rachel brushed his long hair behind his earring studded ear, grimacing. “Yeah… anyway.  Um. We got obliterated by a semi, and… I’m really lucky I didn’t die too, honestly. Nearly did, since I got glass imbedded in my chest.”

Rachel patted over his heart, somewhat proud seeming for surviving that. “Ever had glass stuck in you?”

Donnie pointed at the old scar underneath his eye. “Been there, though for a considerably stupider reason.” He ignored the flash of memory about being slapped hard enough his glasses broke. “Glasses lens, not windshield debris.”

“Nasty,” Rachel commented, eyeing the scar with something like appreciation. Donnie hummed vaguely. “But hey, you didn’t say how your mom died. She wasn’t with your dad?”

This part of his story felt sickly bitter on his tongue, and Donnie crossed his arms over his chest.

“Alcohol poisoning,” he said tonelessly. Old resentment of that weakness in his mother welled up in him. “She didn’t take my father’s death well, or my grandmother’s around the same time. My grandfather ended up the only family I had left.”

Rachel’s expression softened, and Donnie averted his eyes.

“That’s even rougher,” Rachel said, and however sincere it sounded, Donnie still felt uncomfortable. “I’m sorry that happened. Really. That’s… that’s a bad way to lose someone.”

“Yeah,” Donnie agreed quietly, and didn’t really feel like talking any further about the subject. “Can we talk about something else, now?”

“Sure, dude. I’m sorry that got…” Rachel trailed off, and Donnie didn’t have any words to fill that space either.

Out of the corner of his eye, Donnie saw Rachel’s hand come up, and he nearly tensed up to flinch out of range. But, for whatever reason, he held still and let the open palm come towards him.

Very gently, Rachel’s hand patted the middle of Donnie’s back. Then was taken away again, and Donnie only felt a minor amount of mental static for the touch. He didn’t comment, and thankfully, Rachel didn’t seem to feel the need to talk about the action either.

Donnie cleared his throat after what he thought was an appropriate amount of silence. “Anyways, awkward and terrible feeling family history aside, why are you bleeding from the face in that photo?”

He was pointing at one of the pictures hung from the wall, which next to it had frames containing medals and certificates. It was clearly a sporting event, given that Rachel’s formerly dark hair was pulled back in tight cornrows in the photo, and he had either tape or bruised knuckles on his hands in each one. The largest photo, which he was pointing at, looked to be a team photo of young girls, with Rachel in the middle and suffering a swelling split lip.

Donnie caught a grin spreading across Rachel’s face. “I used to compete in kickboxing,” he said, definitely proud of that fact. “There was a trial class at a local rec center when I was littler, and it just… clicked for me. I got damn good damn fast, and ended up winning a lot of fights. Even had the chance to go to regionals, once. My coach said I could’ve had a shot at going pro if I really worked for it.”

“…but you didn’t?” Donnie questioned, because it didn’t sound like it.

Rachel’s smile slipped, turning into a frown. “No, I didn’t. Some… some stuff happened during high school, and around that time I started to… you know. Figure things out. I couldn’t really see myself getting to compete in the category I wanted to, so… I stopped going.” He gave Donnie a humorless smile. “Never heard of a faggot Indian kid making it big, right? So why bother.”

Donnie shifted, a tad uncomfortable. There was heat in those words he didn’t know how to approach, and really didn’t want to deal with at all.

“Things are changing,” he offered uselessly.

“Not fast enough,” Rachel said, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter anymore, I’m past it. I got a job and I’m thinking… maybe I just sign on for trades like my cousins did. I’m strong enough for it, and don’t really give a shit how I make money.”

“Why not be an artist?” Donnie asked. “I only glanced, but you seem quite good.”

“Man, no one makes it as an artist these days,” Rachel said dismissively. “Only seriously good ones can make pay off it, and I’m not them.”

“I’d say otherwise,” Donnie insisted. He called up the knowledge he had on the subject. “You’ve got a good grasp of anatomy, but stylized enough to be personal, and I caught a couple that really stood out in terms of expressive facial design. Bringing art to life like that is key to making yourself popular in certain streams of the community.”

Rachel gave him a mildly surprised look, losing the bitterness he’d been carrying the last few minutes. “You got all that from a glance?”

Donnie shrugged. “I have very good memory. It was an important part of my job, and an asset for- uh. A lot of things.”

“What things?” Rachel asked. Donnie hesitated badly- he’d talked himself into a corner with this one oh _fuck-_ but was saved by the sound of a knock on the door.

Both he and Rachel turned towards the entrance of the house, and then back to each other.

“I told you,” Rachel said. “He’d come back when he felt like it.”

“It could be someone else,” Donnie pointed out.

“ _Who?”_ Rachel said incredulously, and headed for the door. Donnie trailed behind, peering around the corner into the hallway as Rachel went to open the front door.

As Rachel predicted, and Donnie admittedly expected, Mikey was standing outside. Hair in a worse disaster than usual, dried blood crusting on his forehead, and dirt smudged into the knees of his white pants.

“So, uh…” Mikey gave them a sheepish look. “Sorry about running off…?”

Rachel’s fist snatched his collar. Donnie wisely retreated at that moment, to go towards the kitchen in hopes of getting a glass of water and out of range.

“You absolute fucking _MORON!”_ Rachel shrieked at Mikey, and Donnie made himself scarce.

 

 

 

_“Trade you death causes?”_

_“Sure, if you feel like being a morbid fucker.”_

Leo had been dreaming something vague and dully colored up to that point, but he floated back towards consciousness as the conversation he’d been listening to fully registered. Likely speaking, the adrenaline rush of earlier had helped push the sleeping pills through his system faster than usual, and it allowed his brain to wake just enough to overhear a conversation he probably shouldn’t have.

Leo drifted sleepily, too out of it to wake up but not out of it enough to go back to dreaming. While he remained motionless on the couch, Donnie and Rachel talked somewhere outside his vision range. Which was limited to a cushion pressed against his nose. It smelled like old fabric and dust.

“… _got obliterated by a semi, and… I’m really lucky I didn’t die too, honestly...”_

_“Alcohol poisoning… didn’t take my father’s death well, or my grandmother’s…”_

Leo closed his eyes, trying to will himself to go back to sleep. He shouldn’t be listening to this without them knowing; it was very clearly a private conversation.

He hadn’t known those things about Donnie or Rachel. Donnie hadn’t breathed more than a few bitter statements about his grandfather in terms of his family, and Leo had only known Rachel for the length of each visit. She hadn’t had time to get to know him enough to offer that sort of personal information.

Leo tried to not feel a little left out that Donnie was getting to hear it, though. Donnie had only seen Rachel the same amount of times Leo had, and yet… they were talking about such serious things already. It shouldn’t have been something he was jealous of, but he was.

At least they had known their parents, even for such short periods of time. Leo hadn’t even gotten to know his parents’ names.

That thought led to others, similarly heavy and saddening, and Leo drifted back into near sleep. He vaguely was aware that Rachel and Donnie were talking, but nothing registered properly. He started to dream about being somewhere else, curled up on another couch that was old and dusty smelling, with Donnie and Rachel’s voices in the background, along with Mikey’s and two others he… couldn’t quite… recognize…

It felt warm. Safe.

Leo dipped further into the dream, slipping further from wakefulness, and nearly fell back into a deep sleep.

Until Rachel’s screech yanked him right back from that and made him flinch awake hard enough he almost fell off the couch.

Leo gave his best try at bolting upright, but he really only managed to do so by clawing at the sofa. He dizzily swung his head around, trying to locate the source of conflict, and looked towards the exit of the room just in time to see Rachel dragging Mikey in by the collar of his shirt.

“Aw, Rach, c’mon- I was only gone like, a _half hour-_ ”

“Shut up! Shut up, shut _up_ you fucking idiot!” Rachel spat at him, grabbing Mikey by the shoulders and shoving him backwards over the arm of the couch. Leo had luckily just vacated that spot, and Mikey’s upper body fell on cushions instead of him.

Rachel fixed her furious green eyes on Leo, and Leo tried to not shy away.

“Do _not_ let him up,” she instructed angrily to Leo, who nodded quickly. Then, turning her ire back on Mikey, “And for _god’s sake- feet off the fucking carpet Mikey,_ you’re getting bloodstains everywhere!”

Mikey obediently raised his feet into the air, and Leo’s eyebrows shot up when he saw there were small cuts all over them. Rachel muttered curses to herself as she swept back out of the room, red hair in as much a flurry as Mikey’s currently was, brushing the side of Leo’s thigh. Mikey noticed him at that moment.

“Oh _hey_ , Leo,” Mikey said pleasantly, like there wasn’t even more blood crusting around his eyebrows. “Nice to see you up. Have a good nap?”

“…Mikey, I’m going to be honest here,” Leo said. “I have no fucking clue where I am or why you’re bleeding. How long was I asleep. _When_ did I fall asleep.”

“Ooooh, you _sweared._ Swore. Something like that, grammar is boring,” Mikey said, waving a hand in the air. “You never swear. You must be pretty stressed right now.”

“I just woke up in a strange house, on a strange couch, and it’s because of Rachel dragging you in here. Bleeding. On the carpet, apparently.”

Mikey waggled his feet in the air. “That is definitely something I probably did. Whoops.”

Somewhere above them, Leo heard the thud of things hitting the floor and the distant voice of Rachel yelling a swear word. Leo sighed, rubbing his gritty feeling eyes. Everything was too much of a soupy mess to grasp properly, and a large part of him just wanted to lie back down and go to sleep. Escape the mayhem a little longer. He dropped his hand and looked back down at Mikey, who was staring up at him with an all too calm expression.

Leo carefully put a hand on Mikey’s forehead, moving hair out of the way to look at the scrape there. He trailed his fingers around the injury, lips pursed.

“What happened to you? I can’t have been asleep that long,” Leo asked quietly.

“I-” Mikey started to say.

“He _ran off,”_ Rachel stated loudly as she re-entered the room. She had a flat metal box in her hands, marked as a first aid kit by the cross on it.

“ _Mikey,”_ Leo said despairingly.

“I didn’t _run off,”_ Mikey defended. “I. I went for a walk. To clear my head.”

Rachel shoved a bunch of clothes off the nearby coffee table, dropping the first aid kit on it. “People don’t run out of a house like their ass is on fire when they’re _going for a walk,”_ Rachel said, anger still very clear in her voice. “Or go for one without _shoes_. What the fuck did you do, tap dance on glass?”

“It’s perfectly reasonable to go for a walk without shoes,” Mikey said, not flinching even as Rachel grabbed his left foot and started examining it. “We happened to not wear shoes _ever_ when we were turtles, and we took _lots_ of walks, and runs, and a bunch of other exercise related things.”

“Turtles don’t wear shoes,” Rachel snapped. She swapped feet, equal parts gentle and rough with the injuries. Satisfied with the examination, she dropped the foot and opened the kit to retrieve a packet of wipes. “You’re an incredibly stupid human teenager and we, get this, _have to wear shoes outside._ ”

Rachel opened a packet of antiseptic wipes and started cleaning out the wounds, grumbling to herself.

Leo moved the rest of Mikey’s flyaway hair out of his face, looking at the scrapes there. “And these?” he asked, a ball of worry forming in his chest as he looked at all the little injuries Mikey had given himself.

“I… ran into a wall,” Mikey said.

“ _Bullshit,”_ Rachel said, and Mikey winced as her strokes to clean the blood away got a little rougher.

“I _did,”_ Mikey insisted.

“Yeah, like how you were just ‘going for a walk’. Come on, we look like idiots to you?” Rachel stopped wiping, looking seriously at Mikey. “You ran out ‘cause my drawing freaked you out for some reason, and you come back looking like you picked a fight with a wall, not ran into one. What the hell is going on with you?”

Leo looked back down at Mikey. The other boy was looking at the ceiling with an unreadable, but calm expression.

“I took a walk, and then I ran into a wall,” Mikey repeated. “Your… that drawing didn’t have anything to do with it. I don’t even remember what was on the thing.”

Leo glanced at Rachel, looking for clarification of some kind. What drawing? How much had he missed? But Rachel just looked at Mikey for a long moment, and then huffed and went back to cleaning Mikey’s cuts.

“Sure,” Rachel muttered as she got out another anti-septic wipe. “we’ll just go with that.”

Leo might have been fairly out of it, feeling like there was thick stagnant air in his head, but he knew Rachel didn’t believe Mikey, and that Mikey wasn’t telling the truth.  He wished he knew how to get Mikey to admit what really had happened with him, but given how Mikey was wearing another of his carefully guarded expressions and pretending he wasn’t… Leo knew no matter what he tried it wouldn’t work. Especially given how hard words were at the moment.

He settled for silently keeping Mikey’s hair out of his scrapes, and trying to stay awake to do so. Mikey really did have a lot of hair, a mess of frizz and springy coils. It was softer than Leo’s own was, which had started to grow out since his admittance to the facility. It definitely wasn’t the afro cloud Mikey had going, but it was getting longer than Leo liked it to be. No one had offered haircuts during his treatments, so he’d ended up just letting it be while he drifted through days and nights and appointments.

Even if this whole venture went pear shaped, at least Leo might get a chance to cut his hair at some point.

While he’d been lost in thought about hair, curling his fingers into the larger coils on Mikey’s head, someone else had edged into the room. Leo glanced up to see Donnie hovering near the doorway, dressed in a new dark green long sleeve shirt.

“But _how_ did you run into a wall?” Donnie was asking, and Leo noticed then that there’d been a conversation going on around him while he dazed out.

“I tripped,” Mikey explained, which didn’t sound terribly believable. Leo hadn’t ever seen Mikey be anything less that in total control of his movements. Heck, he still vibrantly remembered Mikey _vaulting_ across a very crowded room to get to Rachel. Athleticism wasn’t something Mikey was in short order of; tripping sounded extremely unlikely.

“You… tripped,” Donnie said, sounding as disbelieving as Leo felt.

“Even someone as nimble as me on their feet is gonna trip sometime, Dee,” Mikey said.

“That is a terrible lie.”

“It’s _true.”_

“You know what?” Rachel spoke up, interrupting. “I don’t care if or how you tripped. I care that this was a _stupid decision,_ and it could have screwed _all_ of us over. I want an apology for that, because it’s not just you going down if you get caught, Mikey. It’ll be all of us.”

Mikey sighed, grimacing. “Yeah, yeah it would be. I’m sorry, Rach, honest. I didn’t think it through.”

“Damn right you didn’t,” Rachel said, dropping another bloodstained wipe onto the pile next to the couch. She rummaged through the first aid kit again, and then clicked her tongue. “Shit, the good bandaids are upstairs. Hold on while I grab ‘em. And oh, Leo.” She tossed Leo an anti-septic wipe packet, which he fumbled with trying to catch it. “Make yourself useful and clean his dumbass head wound.”

Rachel stood up and left the room, her steps ascending again to the second story. Donnie lingered only a few seconds before disappearing back out of the room; his footsteps not seeming to go upstairs, given Leo didn’t hear them above. In their absence, Leo decided he might as well do what Rachel told him to in the meantime.

Tearing open the packet, he started gently wiping at Mikey’s forehead. Probably because of the pills in his system, he felt too fuzzy and distant to work up any anxiety about doing so. He just kept cleaning up the dried blood on Mikey’s brown skin, while the other teen lay perfectly still next to Leo’s thigh.

A very vague sensation fell over Leo, like a déjà vu. Like they’d done something similar to this before.

Minutes ticked by, and Rachel didn’t come back right away. There really wasn’t much blood in actuality from the scrapes, so soon it was all gone and only the shallow wounds remained. Leo paused then, a knot of concern still in his chest.

“Why won’t you tell us what really happened?” Leo asked Mikey, rubbing his thumb on the side of his brother’s forehead. “You said you’d tell us anything we wanted to know, now that it was all out in the open… but you’re keeping this a secret.”

“I’m telling the truth,” Mikey said. “That’s what happened. It wasn’t as big a deal as Rachel’s making it out to be. I mean, come on. I ran off but I think I deserve a _little_ more gentleness. My feet at important, you know. I need them to walk and stuff.”

“You’re deflecting,” Leo chastised quietly, tracing a collection of freckles on Mikey’s forehead. “and I don’t think she’s actually all that mad. She’s just worried, I think.”

“Yeah… Rach always did get a little intense about stuff,” Mikey said. “And it’s _he,_ Leo. Remember? Rachel’s a dude.”

Leo blinked owlishly.

“…what?” he questioned.

“In the car? On the way over? You were there for it. Rachel came out and it was this big emotional moment and we all hugged and celebrated and stuff.”

Leo tried to imagine Rachel _and_ Donnie willingly being a part of a group hug, and failed. “That didn’t happen, you’re joking,” he said.

“Okay, I embellished a lot with the hugging and celebration. It was mostly Donnie yelling at us to keep driving and Rachel looking kind of scared about it all, but I’m serious about him coming out!” Mikey reached up and patted Leo’s wrist. “So don’t go callin’ him a she anymore, okay?”

Hearing this, another small piece of rightness he couldn’t quite name fell into place for Leo. _He_ as pronouns settled on Rachel in Leo’s mind, and just… fit. Just like so many other things had begun to for everyone in their collective.

Leo closed his eyes, and then sighed.

“I missed so much while I was asleep,” he lamented. Mikey chuckled, and Leo opened his eyes again to look at him. The scrapes and the bruising around them were getting darker, scabs crusting and burst blood vessels making themselves known under freckled skin, and Mikey still wasn’t going to tell him the whole story behind them.

Leo frowned, curling his free hand into the thick mass of Mikey’s hair. He wondered how many other things Mikey wasn’t telling the whole story of.

“I’ll remember to call him a he,” Leo promised Mikey, who smiled happily. “but only if you remember to _tell us_ when you’re going to… take a walk. Don’t run off alone like that, please? I… I don’t want you getting hurt somewhere we can’t help you.”

The solid knot of worry in chest tightened at the idea of Mikey getting hurt and Leo, or either of the other two, being unable to find him in time to help. Something in him curled up and ached, badly, at the idea of failing to be there for Mikey. Of failing him in general, even if it was Mikey’s decision to run off where none of them could reach in time.

Mikey’s hand touched his cheek, and Leo refocused on him. His best friend and brother looked up at him with a soft, wistful expression.

“I missed you,” Mikey said, smiling with a gentle curl of his mouth. “I missed _this_ you.”

“But I didn’t go anywhere,” Leo said. Mikey’s palm was warm against his skin, staying pressed there while Mikey kept smiling oddly.

Mikey let out a quiet sigh, and trailed his fingers down Leo’s cheek as his hand dropped. “Nah, you did. And I’m really glad you came back, instead of…”

“Instead of what?”

Mikey shook his head. “Nothing. Sorry, lost my thought there.”

“Maybe you’re the one still on sleep meds,” Leo teased, though internally he wondered where that thought had been going.

“No, this is just my usual state,” Mikey said with a laugh. “You know me. Too many thoughts, ninety percent of them pure nonsense.”

“You got some sensible ones in there,” Leo said, poking Mikey’s head. “You got us out of the facility, after all.”

“Eh, that was mostly Donnie and Rachel if we’re honest. I had my fork and lock picking skills though!”

Leo winced a little. “Oh yeah, the fork. Don’t bring it with us on the trip, Mikey. Seriously.”

“Why not?”

“Because you were going to stab-” Leo bit off with a grumble. “Because it’s a _fork,_ which is a crappy weapon anyway. And if you were going to fight someone, couldn’t you use ninja skills or something?”

“Ninjutsu _involves_ weapons, duh. Even forks,” Mikey said matter of factly.

Leo rolled his eyes. He’d have to get that fork off Mikey sometime later. He then heard Rachel’s steps coming back downstairs, but he didn’t return to the living room just yet. Instead Leo heard them move the opposite direction, and quiet voices start up. He thought he heard Donnie asking about more food.

The earlier conversation he overheard bubbled up in his mind, and Leo bit his lip about telling Mikey. Leo wrestled with himself for a moment, and then figured since Rachel intended for Donnie to tell them anyway it was okay. Leo neatly sidestepped his knowledge that Donnie hadn’t wanted to tell anyone except Rachel about his parents specifically.

“Hey… you know why Rachel lives with his uncle?” Leo said in a whisper.

“No,” Mikey whispered back. “Why are we whispering?”

“Because they don’t know I know already. Or that I also know about why Donnie lives with just his grandpa.”

“Ooh, _secrets._ Spill.”

“It’s… it’s because their parents passed away when they were kids,” Leo confessed quietly. Sympathy and jealousy welled in him. “Donnie was one, and Rachel was six. Both of them were… car crashes.”

“Oh,” Mikey said, losing the mild amusement he had. His expression became sympathetic. “You think that’s why…?”

“They didn’t wanna talk about it? Yeah, I think so.”

“Man, that’s shitty. At least I never had my mom to get attached to,” Mikey said, clicking his tongue. “I was a literal baby when she died. Overdoses, right?”

Leo’s heart did a painful little clench. Mikey hadn’t ever talked about his family before, just that he was a foster kid. To lose your parent like that…

“If it’s any comfort…” Leo offered. “I don’t even know that much about my family. They surrendered me to the foster system when I was barely a few months, too. No information otherwise.”

And that had been a good choice on their part. Better Leo hurt strangers than someone of his family.

“Aw, Leo, you too?” Mikey said sadly. He sighed. “Parents, jeez. All they do is cause issues for their kids.”

Leo smiled wanly. “So, I guess… we all have issues?”

“Five dead parents and two AWOL ones? I’d say so,” Mikey huffed seriously. “Feels like we can’t catch a break, ever. But at least we got each other now, right?”

Mikey’s hand came up and clasped Leo’s knee, squeezing tight. Leo moved his hand from Mikey’s hair to that extended arm, clasping back.

“Yeah,” he said, feeling warm inside. “We got each other now.”

Mikey grinned wide and toothy, which was only a little disturbing with the scrapes and cut feet. They were then interrupted as Rachel came back into the room with a box of bandaids. The next thing Leo knew, his used anti-septic napkin was taken away and a wide bandaid pressed into his hand for the largest scrape.

Mikey kept grinning happily while Leo applied the bandage, and didn’t flinch at all as Rachel started to apply other ones to his feet.

“Tell me, Doc,” Mikey asked in a falsely wavering voice. “Will I ever walk again? Dance the marimba?”

“That’s a musical instrument, idiot,” Rachel corrected.

“Oh is it? I swore it was a dance of some kind.”

“It’s like a cousin of the generic xylophone, definitely not a dance at all. And you just need painkillers and to keep these from getting infected, that’s all. I’ve seen worse papercuts.”

“Sure bled a lot for papercuts.”

“You had a lot of them. That tends to happen when you have like, ten cuts in the same area.”

Leo tried to follow along and stay awake, but as Rachel and Mikey talked, and Donnie reappeared with a box of chocolate chip cookies in hand, Leo kind of… drifted off again, sitting up.

Next thing he knew, something woke him up a third time. Leo blearily took in that the living room was dark, and there was no sign of Rachel or Donnie anywhere.

He realized the thing that had woken him up again was Mikey’s subtle shaking. The other teen had his head mostly pillowed on Leo’s thigh, and was curled up facing the sofa cushions. Like the first and only time Leo saw Mikey sleep outside his room in the facility, he seemed to be having a nightmare. Eyes shut tight and jaw clenching as he tensed all over.

Unlike that last time, Leo felt no trepidation combing his fingers through Mikey’s hair until he settled again.

When Mikey’s posture had relaxed, Leo’s ability to stay awake started to slip away again. He didn’t even try to fight it; just closing his eyes and putting his head back on the high couch cushion behind him. Leo slept deeply, at peace and unbothered by whatever might have been plaguing Mikey’s dreams.

Next thing he knew, a distinctly grumpy Rachel was shaking him awake and a pair of jeans and shirt was being shoved against his chest.

“Up and out the door, sleeping beauty,” She- _he_ said tersely. Leo remembered now. “We’ve wasted enough time, and dawn’s only a few hours off. We gotta leave within the next ten, alright?”

Leo nodded, yawning. “Sure, but.. wh’s the time?”

“Almost four in the morning. I know, fantastic time to rise. Get up and get dressed, and help pack stuff out to the car. Mikey’s already been bouncing at the walls, so no delays.”

And with those gruff words, Rachel left the room in shuffling stomps. Leo rubbed his face and tried to shake off the last of the pills effects as he stood. He also tried to not feel a thrum of fear for the future, now that he was about to fully enter sobriety from his medications.

He dressed in the clothes provided to him in the main floor bathroom. Leo was happy to get back into normal clothes; like his sneakers, they just made him feel steadier. He also noticed while getting on his new jeans… that no one had bothered to take off said sneakers before letting him sleep on the couch.

There seemed to have been a number of things happening while he was out, so Leo forgave the others for that.

When he followed the sound of voices, coming out of the washroom with his hospital clothes folded neatly in his arms, he found the door to the back open. And outside: Rachel, Mikey, and Donnie all standing around a tarp covered vehicle.

Rachel was just finished collecting all the bungie cords holding it down, and yanked the dark tarp off the car. Underneath was a yellow and white van, which Leo thought he knew the name of but couldn’t place. He just knew it wasn’t a recent model.

“Oh _shit!”_ Mikey exclaimed, immediately getting close with the car and putting his hands on the flat front. “It’s just like the one from _Little Miss Sunshine!”_

“It’s a Volkswagen type two microbus,” Donnie remarked, also circling the outdated vehicle. He grimaced at the rust eating at its paint. “A Volkswagen type two microbus that’s in bad shape.”

“My cousin bought it ages ago,” Rachel explained, wading up the tarp and kicking it to the side. “He keeps saying every time he comes back that _this time,_ he’ll fix it up and sell it. It’s been like ten years now, and he never even looks at the thing.”

“And we’re… driving off in it?” Leo asked, being noticed by the rest of the group then.

“No one’s seen it since my cousin Tyson drove it in here, so yeah,” Rachel shrugged. “It’ll be less likely they find our trail if we’re using a different car than my work’s van.”

“Which is getting returned _how?”_ Donnie asked from the other side of the bus.

“I got someone coming to pick it up, chill,” Rachel said. He started back towards Leo and the house. “Now come on, daylight’s burning and I don’t feel like being late to outrun the police.”

“Oh yeah, this’ll be _great._ Just like old times, _”_ Mikey enthused, trotting after Rachel. As he passed Leo, Mikey gave him an excited and confident grin. Leo glanced back dubiously at the rusted old vehicle, and shared a mutually unsure look with Donnie.

“If we breakdown and get sent to jail,” Donnie said as he filed inside with Leo. “we’ve really only got ourselves to blame, considering we’re going to willingly get into that rust bucket.”

“It doesn’t look so bad,” Leo tried to comfort. Donnie just muttered derisive Chinese under his breath and headed into the kitchen.

The next time Leo saw him was as they were heading back out with bags and boxes; Donnie had a travel mug presumably with coffee in it, and was clutching it like he’d attack anyone who tried to take it. Leo wisely didn’t even mention wanting some coffee for himself.

When everything was piled into the trunk of the bus- which wasn’t much, since they weren’t wasting time trying to cover _all_ their bases- everyone was ordered to take a bathroom break or be forced to hold it until they crossed state borders, as stated very, very sternly by Rachel.

Leo, when it was his turn, spent a moment in front of the mirror staring himself in the eye. The tap ran in the sink, giving him the excuse of just washing his hands a long time.

He had bags under his eyes and a distinctly nervous tinge to his expression. He tried to smooth it away. This was what they all wanted, what _he_ wanted. He shouldn’t look like he was about to do something terrible or dangerous.

Leo sighed. It wouldn’t be any more dangerous than usual for him. It was the other three with him for the ride that he’d be worried about. Because he was with them.

Leo splashed water on his face and tried to banish those thoughts. This was a new start. A second chance for him. And he refused to screw it up pre-emptively by expecting the worst of his own actions.

He’d just… be aware of his potential failings. Yeah.

Leo shook himself and turned off the tap. He dried his face with the hand towel and opened the door. When he went downstairs, Rachel was setting a thick wad of bills on the kitchen counter with a note.

 _“For your shitty van”_ it read. Leo felt his mouth quirk upwards in a smile at that.

“What?” Rachel accused gruffly. He was also hunched around a travel mug protectively. Leo was really starting to see a lot of similarities between him and Donnie, despite how different they seemed at first glance.

“Nothing,” Leo said, still smiling. Rachel rolled his eyes and jerked a thumb for Leo to get a move on already.

Mikey was doing stretches and handstands outside by the bus when they came out, and Donnie turned out to have already situated himself in the far backseat. Leo followed that line of thought, putting himself in the middle seat and away from others. Mikey was corralled into the passenger seat by Rachel, who took the driver’s seat for obvious reasons.

“Okay, we all go the bathroom?” he asked, stopping just before putting the key in the ignition. There was a murmur of assent. “Great. Snacks are in the back if anyone is really that hungry. No stops, no griping. Do _not_ piss me off, I’m the driver.”

“Just _drive_ already,” Donnie said, a little snappishly. He was definitely starting to act anxious again. Rachel flipped them all off and turned the ignition.

The car sputtered, coughed, and miraculously turned on despite all the noise it produced in doing so. Rachel smacked the dashboard twice before he seemed satisfied nothing was going to explode or die.

“There,” Rachel said, starting to back out the wide yard gate. “We’re good. We’re fine.”

“We’re going to breakdown in the middle of nowhere,” Donnie said morosely. Leo couldn’t disagree with that prediction.

“We’ll be _fine!”_ Mikey said encouragingly. “I swear, whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

“This is the first time there’s ever been a _we,”_ Donnie pointed out.

“He’s not wrong,” Leo agreed.

“You’re all just being negative. Be positive instead!”

“I’m positive we’re going to breakdown in the middle of nowhere.”

“Donnie.”

“Mikey.”

“Someone just get out and shut the gate,” Rachel interrupted. Leo opened his side door and did so before any more bickering could start. As he pulled the wide wooden fencing back towards its latch, Leo glanced towards the faintly brightening horizon.

For better or worse, everything was about the change. For all of them. And Leo was admittedly scared shitless of what that might end up looking like.

But, underneath that fear, a part of him felt a little guiltily giddy. He’d never gone on a road trip with friends before, let alone a family he could call his own. If nothing went horribly wrong, maybe this could be… fun.

He nursed that quiet, tentative hope in his chest as he got back in the car, and settled in as Rachel drove out of the alley.

 

 

 

Mikey could hardly sit still. They were out. They were driving. They were off and gone and it was _working out._ Nothing ever worked out for them, something always found a way to go wrong and blow up in their faces. Especially when he was the one to come up with their plan of action.

What a nice change! It felt good to have something go right like this for once. Now all that lay ahead of them was a few more things, and it would all be fixed. His family would be whole and things could go back to how they’d been before.

Mikey couldn’t wait. He’d spent his whole second life wanting his family back, and now they were within his grasp. It made an electric bubble of excitement spread through his body, sweeping him up and away with visions things in the future. Most of it was vague, but the four of them were happy, that much he knew.

Like last night, sitting in Rachel’s living room and just hanging out while his feet were taken care of. Leo sleeping beside Mikey’s head and Rachel and Donnie trading back and forth sarcastic comments about Mikey’s stupid decisions. It’d felt as close to home as Mikey had felt in a long, long time. Even with the weird fuzzy patch of his memory before then, which he wasn’t thinking too hard on, since it didn’t matter at all anymore, it’d been… really good. The best, actually.

He wanted to experience it again as soon as possible, and then never stop experiencing it ever again.

The edges of town rolled away, and a long length of highway stretched before them. Mikey adjusted his bag of meager but important possessions in his lap, grinning at the sheer freedom he was feeling. No more tests, no more appointments, no more medications and no more doctors picking his brain. No more normal humans trying to make him give up all this- all these amazing people he _loved-_ and no more watching his brothers look miserable in bad moments.

Things would get better. This would fix everything. He couldn’t wait.

“So… what’s the plan once we’re out of state?” Rachel asked, breaking the mildly tense lull since they started driving.

Mikey hummed. “Find Casey, find April, _maaaaybe_ find master Splinter, and… something?”

“You have no plan.”

“I didn’t actually think it’d go this well, so. Taking things by the hour, honestly.”

Donnie and Leo both groaned in the backseat. Rachel looked very close to turning the bus around.

“I’m trying here!” Mikey defended. “This is a lot of work being a kind-of leader. I didn’t get any training in this kind of stuff, that was all on Leo’s end of things.”

“I have never been trained for anything in my life,” Leo said quickly, looking a little nervous, like someone would abruptly put him in charge of the trip.

“So… you’re telling me we’re on the run from the police, and you don’t have a real plan for anything besides getting us _into_ this mess?” Rachel said, annoyance creeping into his voice. He gave Mikey a flat look. “I want to be surprised, but I’m somehow not.”

“This escape isn’t only my doing,” Mikey pointed out. “You all helped. Mostly this was you and Donnie.” He leaned towards the window when Rachel turned a furious look on him. “Okay, okay, I did a lot too! Jeez, calm down.”

“Give me names and I’ll see what I can turn up,” Donnie offered in a resigned voice from the back. “Get me a laptop and it shouldn’t take more than hour. You can identify them by photo, right? That’ll give us a starting place.”

“We _start_ by making sure we don’t get arrested,” Rachel said firmly. “We get a few towns over, maybe even a few cities, and _then_ we start looking for real. Okay, everyone?”

“Good by me!” Mikey exclaimed, very, very relieved he didn’t have to think of everything himself anymore. That was, very honestly, extremely tiring. He didn’t know how Leo had handled all that pressure last time around.

“As long as we don’t get arrested, fine for me,” Donnie said.

“Same thing as he said,” Leo added.

“Great, now let’s make it over the border and not… fuck up, somehow,” Rachel said the last part in a half mumble, squinting at the road ahead.

Mikey settled back into his seat, trying to get comfortable for a long drive. It only lasted for a few seconds, before he started feeling restless again.

“Can we turn on some music?” he asked, desperate for something to think about besides the endless seeming journey to safety.

“Radio’s busted,” Rachel said, still annoyed sounding. “We… I got some CD’s with me, if you wanted…”

“You have _CD’s?”_ Donnie said, and Mikey could see him in the review mirror leaning forwards. “Who has _CD’s_ anymore?”

“Mikey does,” Leo said, pointing at Mikey.

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“ _Why?_ We have Ipods, and MP3s,” Donnie said.

“And Walkmans!” Mikey said proudly, producing his treasure. Donnie looked genuinely disgusted by the comparably ancient tech.

“And Walkmans,” Rachel said, chuckling. He gestured at the dashboard radio and CD slot. “Alright, pick a starter CD and stick it in. You get three song picks before we switch out. No exceptions. I’m the driver, I make the rules.”

“Like you already told us, lay off,” Mikey said, putting his Walkman back into his bag beside his journal. He pulled out one of the CD cases, examining the handwritten cover inside it and debating. “Mmmmmmmthis one. It’s literally called ‘ROAD TRIP’ in all caps.”

“I want to see the case,” Donnie demanded from the back. Mikey popped out his CD and tossed the case back, listening to Leo fumble to catch it. He slid the CD into the dashboard, listening to the old machine whirr as it read the disc.

“Absolutely none of these songs have any correlation with the others,” Donnie informed them. “These aren’t even necessarily road trip songs, by definition of the internet.”

“I found it in a bin at the thrift store,” Mikey said. “Dunno who made it, but I like their taste.”

“I’m personally questioning it.”

“Not your turn, though!” Mikey said brightly, and started skipping through songs to get to the one he wanted.

“Rachel, can I have the CD’s? I need to save my ears from bleeding the whole time.”

“In the back,” Rachel told him, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Can I pick, too?” Leo asked.

“Sure, ask Donnie to share.”

“When I’m done.”

“Split the bag, Donnie.”

“When I’m _done.”_

“I can wait…”

Mikey found the song he liked, ignoring the gentle argument starting up. He then turned his attention to the knobs, which were all unlabelled due to the printed symbols wearing away. _One_ of them had to be the volume…

“Hey, Mike?”

Mikey glanced towards Rachel, who was chewing his bottom lip over something he was going to say.

“You know the name thing? _My_ name thing?” he said, wetting his lips. He took a hand off the steering wheel to scratch at his nose. “Yeah, I, uh. I gave your suggestion some thought, and you know… I think I wouldn’t mind being called Raphael. Again, or whatever.”

Mikey stared at the other teen, and as the first words of the song started up, he felt like the sunrise outside was happening inside his body.

_“Caaaan… anybodyyy… fiiind me… somebody tooo loooove..?”_

“Queen is acceptable, I suppose,” Donnie said faintly, though Mikey wasn’t listening. He was too busy grinning so wide his cheeks hurt.

“You look like I just said you won the lottery, jeez,” Rachel- _Raphael._ Raph. Raph his brother. Raph who was going to use his name again. He was giving Mikey an awkward side look, uncomfortable for some reason.

“That’s… that’s _great!”_ Mikey exclaimed. He spotted the volume switch at that moment, and turned up the music as it became more intense. “Yes! Hell yes! Oh my god. This is the _best day. Ever.”_

“Don’t do a SpongeBob meme,” Raph said dryly, though his lips were slowly forming a wide smile, too.

“What?” Leo asked, leaning forwards from his and Donnie’s CD scouring session. “Something happen?”

Mikey twisted around and gave his brother’s head a hug. Leo made a surprised sound, and Mikey only ruffled his hair and pressed a kiss to his scalp. Leo made a _“wha?”_ noise as he was released. Mikey just whooped and turned up the music even louder as the chorus hit.

“ _Too loud,”_ Raph said over the speakers.

“ _LOUD,”_ Donnie complained, hands over his ears in the review mirror. Leo had his ears covered too, though he mostly looked confused instead of annoyed.

_“I'm okay, I'm alright, he's alright, he's alright- I ain't gonna faaaace no defeat-”_

“It’s _PERFECT!”_ Mikey shouted.

 _“I just gotta get out of this prison cell- one day I’m gonna be_ _freeee-”_

Despite the frustrated tone Raph took as Mikey did it, he rolled down the window and let the rush of the wind sting his eyes. Mikey stuck his arms and head out the window even as Raph and Donnie and Leo all told him to get back in the bus, and let out the loudest yell of triumph he ever had.

It got swallowed by the wind, his hair whipping wildly around his head as it did, and it felt like he was flying.

The morning sun peaked over the horizon, bright and burning, and for the first time in forever, Mikey was completely certain things would eventually work out exactly like they should.

Their rusted microbus hurtled down the road as Mikey got dragged back inside, and even as he got scolded for attracting unnecessary attention, he didn’t stop for a second feeling like he was on top of the world.

Ahead lay a road trip of epic proportions, and the checklist in his head still had three boxes left empty. And because of the five fingers on his hands instead of three, however much that stung sometimes, they stood a real, actual chance of filling those boxes. Stood a chance of being a complete family again.

“You listen to Avril Lavigne?” Leo asked Raph, who spluttered and turned red in his cheeks, launching into a defensive about the singer’s earlier work. Donnie meanwhile sneakily tossed a CD to Mikey, motioning for him to play that one next.

Mikey grinned at his fellow b-team member, and popped open the case. He ejected his own choice and slid its replacement in, hitting play as Leo tried to diffuse his accidental argument with Raph and Donnie went back to combing through the CD bag.

 _“I guess we're all in trouble, huh?”_ the speakers started up, following a catchy beat. _“Black clouds are upon us, and it's doomsday on the other side of town…”_

Donnie did have a bit of a taste in mood music, didn’t he? Mikey shot his brother an encouraging grin, but Donnie was too busy to look. Mikey shrugged to himself; that happened a lot in their last lives, he was used to it. With Leo and Raph having settled into a more mellow conversation- somehow having moved on to television that came out in the early two thousands- and no other activities to choose from, Mikey broke into the discussion.

“I didn’t watch much, but I liked The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy.”

“Oh yeah? And let me guess, Billy was your favorite.”

“Jeez Raph, I didn’t even say what I liked about it yet. Snippy snippy.”

“Ugh, look, my cousin- not the older ones, the ones from my dad’s side, they’re like, twelve now- wouldn’t let me watch _anything_ but that show when I came over… I hear his voice in my dreams still, sometimes…”

“Anyone remember Codename: Kid’s Next Door?”

“Oh _shit,_ Leo. Hell yeah I remember them. There was that weird snow cone tasting episode, that’s all I remember of it specifically, and like… totally something I wanted to experience…”

Donnie eventually handed up another CD pick, and the conversation moved to other things. Mikey was content to talk about anything his brothers wanted to. He’d waited years for this; he wasn’t going to do anything to disrupt it.

The town behind them grew smaller and smaller, and the road ahead of them never got any shorter. Mikey didn’t mind. However long it took, he’d get them all back together, and he’d make sure they’d have all the fun they couldn’t have together in their last lives.

A second chance. A second try at things. And he’d make it work.

Mikey leaned back his in his seat, listening to the flow of the conversation around him, and despite them being miles and miles from they once started, he felt at home.

 

 

 

Somewhere, a young man turned over and slapped the alarm clock beside his bed. Something of an old dream slipped from his mind as he sat up, faint and made of wisps. Rubbing his eyes and yawning wide enough his ears popped, he turned and gently woke the sleeping body beside him. Time to start their day, long as it was going to be.

Somewhere, a teenage girl woke briefly. Her eyes were sticky from last night’s makeup and her mouth felt no better. Though something like a sense of premonition tingled in the back of her head, she ignored the ghost of an old power and rolled over to sleep it off. The dreams that followed were no more unusual than any of her waking experiences tended to be.

Somewhere, four brothers bickered about cartoons and music selections while packed into a rusted old bus, and were headed out on the journey of a lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there you have it, the end of the first Issues story. i have to say, i feel a little emotional putting this online. its been so long since i started it, and i have so many stories in me for this universe in the future. i can't wait to share them with you all.
> 
> special thanks to 1readerVB, who commissioned me for the 16th chapter of this and set the final few updates in motion. i would have probably let this sit a lot longer without your help, so thank you, sincerely. and special thanks to my buds rhi, jo, and lu, who all listened to me ramble endlessly about this fanfic and were the best betas a person could ask for. y'all are the real heroes here.
> 
> and of course, you the readers, who wanted more of this fanfic right from the start, and have left me reviews that truly touched my heart. your encouragements helped me on days that i really struggled with finding worth in my writing and life, and i thank you for giving me the strength to carry on. and along the way, some really amazing people gave me fanart of my fic!!! in order that i received the fanart: [first link.](https://onthespectrumwriting.tumblr.com/post/160262608596/chibi-geek-girl-hi-people-its-been-a-long-time) [second link.](https://onthespectrumwriting.tumblr.com/post/169383306143/turtle-trash-my-take-on-onthespectrumwritings) [third link.](https://onthespectrumwriting.tumblr.com/post/170129774738/given-to-me-by-buppletea-some-really-fucking) [fourth link.](https://onthespectrumwriting.tumblr.com/post/170420052541/turtle-trash-well-what-do-you-know-something) go take a look and give 'em some love. the art deserves it. :D
> 
> stay tuned for the inevitable sequel, i'm looking forwards to sharing with you all the next chapter of these kids' lives.
> 
> but that's all for now, thanks for stopping by.

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know how I did in the comments below!


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